


White Knights and Dark Lords

by Sherza



Series: White Knights and Dark Lords [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Gen, Manipulative Dumbledore, Xander is a badass, lots of action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 91,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherza/pseuds/Sherza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The New Watcher's Council discovers the Wizarding World thanks to Voldemort's resurrection in Harry's fourth year. With a prophecy in play, Giles sends in Xander, with Spike as backup. The chaos and mayhem the pair leave in their wake is enough to make Janus high, and the two worlds will never be the same again.</p><p>The story starts in the summer after fourth year for Harry Potter, and about three years post-Sunnydale for the Scoobies. Just pretend the timelines match up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Go Rescue Team!

**Author's Note:**

> Magic comes in two varieties, Earth magic and Wand magic.  
> Earth magic: Generally able to affect multiple targets per spell (or potion). Requires chants or extensive preparation.  
> Wand magic: Generally only able to affect one target per spell. Fast, pinpoint accuracy.
> 
> Wand-wizards can use earth magic and vice-versa. One can be a wand-wizard and an earth-witch, but no such person exists currently, as Wizards don't learn earth magic as such, and no earth witch has received wand-wizard training.
> 
> Vampires and Werewolves are the BTVS varieties. Spike and Xander are friends, and Spike uses a myriad of nicknames. If you can't deal with Spike calling Xander 'pet' and not shagging him, run away now.

 

Go Rescue Team!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series or Harry Potter. Underlined sections in this chapter are directly quoted from Goblet of Fire.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

June 24, 1995 Little Hangleton

Not that anything had exactly been going right since his name came out of the bloody Goblet, but things really, really, really started going bad the second Harry and Cedric touched the cup.

They landed more or less in a heap in a godawful, overgrown graveyard. Every instinct Harry had was screaming at him, to the point where he almost cut loose with a highly sarcastic remark when Cedric recommended they take out their wands. It hadn't helped that his had already been mostly drawn. And then Harry spotted a short, cloaked figure carrying what looked like a bundle of rags. Half a second later, his world erupted into agonizing pain, emanating from his scar. He curled up in a ball, clawing and pressing at his forehead in a vain attempt to mitigate or stop the pain, completely unaware he dropped his wand in the process.

There was only ever one reason his thrice-damned scar hurt, but Harry was in no condition at the moment to think clearly. His scar hadn't hurt this bad even when he'd been nose-to-nose with Voldemort in first year.

And then, while Harry was crippled with pain, he heard an uncomfortably familiar-sounding voice snarl "Kill the spare." ... and seconds later, Cedric died in a frighteningly familiar flash of green. Moments after that, the mystery person was all over Harry, dragging him ... well, somewhere. Harry tried to fight, despite the fact it felt like his head was about to fall off. In the scuffle, the person's hood fell back, and for half a second, Harry was frozen by a combination of disbelief and blinding hate and rage. Peter!

Unfortunately, his hesitation was long enough for Peter to slam him against a headstone bearing a very familiar name and start tying him up. Soon enough, Harry was hogtied nice and tight, and Peter was cramming a gag in his mouth. As soon as he was secured, a ginormous snake slithered into view and circled the headstone lazily. Peter took off out of Harry's line of sight.

Then Peter came back within Harry's range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the fooot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water - Harry could hear it slopping around - and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

Harry was very, very much not liking where all of this seemed to be going. Voldemort was somewhere close by, and Peter was definitely up to no good. This ... was not going to end well. Harry watched as Peter fussed with his wand at the base of the cauldron for a minute before managing to light it. Shortly after that, much to Harry's relief, the huge snake slithered back into the darkness that had seemingly spawned it.

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began to not only bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Peter tending the fire.

Ok, definitely not water then. Water did not do that. Harry's horrified fascination with the potion was interrupted when the bundle near the cauldron moved ... and spoke, telling Peter to hurry. Harry stared at the bundle in horror. Oh hell no. THAT was Voldemort? Somewhere in that pile of cloth? Crap, crap, and triple crap. This was not going to end well.

The whole surface of the 'water' was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

Peter turned to the bundle and picked it up, pulling something out of the cloth, a horrifying, malformed, scabrous mockery of an infant that turned Harry's stomach. Peter didn't look any more thrilled to be having to touch it than Harry felt having to see the thing. Peter dropped it into the 'water' and Harry sent up a silent prayer that the thing would do the world a favor and drown.

Peter pulled his wand out and closed his eyes. He sounded scared out of his mind as he spoke. "Bone of the father unknowingly given, you will renew your son."

The earth beneath Harry's feet heaved and tore before a bone broke through the earth and floated over to the cauldron before being dropped in. The diamond surface of the 'water' broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

Peter's voice went from scared out of his mind to whimpering, almost crying as he pulled a long, thin silver dagger out of his robes and held his right arm out over the potion. Harry realized what he was going to do a half-second later and squeezed his eyes shut in horror.

"Flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master."

Harry was none too sure that Pettigrew sounded willing. Peter let out a god-awful noise of pain and there was a plopping thud as something landed in the potion. Harry couldn't stand to look, but the potion had turned a burning red; the light of it shone through his eyelids.

Peter, gasping, moaning and crying, headed for Harry. Harry, his eyes still clamped shut, didn't realize he was there until Peter was on top of him. Harry opened his eyes in time to watch Peter slash Harry's robe and shirtsleeve open with the bloodstained dagger. Harry gave a convulsive, horrified shudder when he realized that Peter's right hand was missing. Peter sliced into Harry's arm just below the elbow, and fumbled a bit, putting the dagger away and pulling a vial out of a pocket one-handed. He let some of Harry's blood dribble into the vial and then headed back to the potion and dumped the blood in.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

The liquid within the cauldron turned, instantly, a blinding white. Peter collapsed to his knees and then keeled over on his side, clutching his bleeding stump to his chest and whimpering in earnest.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else into velvety blackness. And then suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thicklyfrom the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so he couldn't see Peter or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air.

But then, through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

Voldemort was back ... and Harry knew his life was never going to be the same again.

New Watcher's Council Headquarters, England

The Magic Detection Net was Willow Rosenberg's pride and joy, and had been a project nearly two full years in the making. It monitored for the use of dark earth magic. Anything beyond a certain level would trip the net, hopefully forewarning the NWC of any magic-based troublemakers before they could really get their groove on. In the year it'd been online, it had already alerted them to some half-dozen cases.

And it was squawking again. Willow frowned when the coordinates came up on her computer. All the other cases had been close to one or another of the Hellmouths, indicating baddies trying to open the damned things or taking advantage of the atmosphere endemic to Hellmouths. This one ... was right here in England. Who was doing what, and why? Willow grabbed the phone.

"Dawn, we've got a live one." Willow rattled off the coordinates.

"Got it. A team'll be en route in five." Dawn told her, and then hung up.

June 25 - July 10, 1995 New Watcher's Council

The investigating team only just avoided being spotted by several very oddly-dressed individuals who all seemed intent on investigating the area themselves. That started a whole lot of digging. And the more they dug, the more they discovered. The more they discovered, the more irritated Giles got. And then they hit the mother lode, and Giles very nearly cleaned his glasses into nonexistence trying to keep his temper in check.

How had they missed this? An entire society hidden from sight ... it was the sort of thing that the Council really should have ... and then Giles sighed. They probably had known, but the old Council being the way they were, they'd likely kept the information quiet. Times like this, Giles dearly wished Travers had survived the purge, just so he could use the man as a punching bag. Well, they needed to do something.

This Voldemort character was unlikely to stop at his stated goal of ruling the magical world, and from what the research teams had dug up, the bastard had not kept his vendetta to the magical world the first time around, killing and torturing non-magicals pretty much at will. Worse, there were indications these people were aware to some degree of things demonic. If Voldemort decided to try to make allies out of any of the more dangerous demons, well then, he would definitely be in their purview. And if there was one thing no one in the New Watcher's Council would stand for, it was a kid being manipulated, brainwashed, and generally treated like a disposable commodity.

While the situation wasn't, exactly, within their normal purview yet, there was a prophecy involved, and a dark magic practitioner that would need dealing with, one way or another. That there did not seem to be anyone in the wizarding community who could stop the bastard, short of a nearly-fifteen-year-old-boy helped matters. It was stretching the Council remit until it squeaked, but they'd be able to make it fit. Especially if they could get the right people in there.

And when there was a prophecy that needed to be broken into itty bitty pieces ... there was really only one person to call. Giles grabbed the phone and punched one of the speed dial numbers. When the phone was answered on the other end, he said. "Come back to England with the next Slayer you collect."

"Retiring us from field work finally, Giles?" the voice on the other end of the line asked, sounding both exasperated and amused.

"No. I need you two for a mission here in England." Giles told them. "It's something that needs your particular brand of problem solving."

There was laughter from the other end of the line. "Explosions and bloody deaths? Well, if you insist. We're almost to the next village, should be in England in the next day or two." And the line went dead.

July 12, 1995 New Watcher's Council

Xander sat at the table across from Giles, while Spike slouched in the seat next to him. A slim folder was in front of them, holding what information the research teams had been able to put together about both the wizarding world and one Harry Potter. Xander picked the folder up and looked down at the pages within for a few moments before throwing the file back down onto the table and looking over at Giles.

"Let me get this straight. Some idiot does some mojo that Willow gets a whiff of while I'm off in Africa collecting Slayers. You poke around and find a bunch of idiots in dresses running and hiding from some moron who doesn't know when to die, and they're putting a kid younger than I was when I found out about vamps on the front line ... and you want us to help them?"

Giles cleared his throat. "No, Xander. I want you to help the boy. This Harry Potter. He's getting little to no help from those around him from what we've been able to discover." Then, with a pained look. "And if there is anyone who can break the prophesy, it would be you."

Spike smirked. "Yeah, pet. Not like you don't make a habit of doing that."

Xander resisted the temptation to smack Spike and sighed. "You would say that, Giles. All right, damn it. We're in. I've always wanted a chance to give an entire society a headache." He grinned. "But I doubt they're going to much like it, or thank you for sending us." He could just imagine their reaction to having a vampire running around. Ought to be all sorts of fun.

July 14, 1995 Privet Drive

Xander glared at the house he had been watching all day. He and Spike were packed into an attic across the street, a few houses down. Giles so owed them for this. He'd been hard-put to not bash heads together since about an hour into watching #4. The Dursleys, the people that Potter was staying with, treated the kid worse than Tony had ever treated him. That in and of itself had Xander pissed off for Harry's sake. It really didn't help that something about the place was setting off Xander's hellmouth radar. But what had Xander seething were the other people.

He and Spike had strolled down the street a little before dawn this morning to check things out. They'd detected at least three people hiding under some sort of cloth or cloak or something of that nature. He and Spike both had been able to smell one of them, who'd smelled like he was fresh from a three-day bender, and Spike had been able to smell and hear the other two, so even if neither of them could see anything, they'd been able to pinpoint where the three were.

Spike was, if anything, even less happy about what they'd found out than he was. Big Bad reputation aside, Spike had as dim a view of people hurting kids (especially ones under his protection) as Xander did. Xander'd been rather grateful both for the sunlight and the fact he hadn't yet given Spike a certain new toy Willow had created for the vampire. It kept Spike from going over there and doing something drastic, like draining the Dursleys and the hidden watchers dry. Though the two of them had had a lot of fun coming up with increasingly painful ways to teach the bastards the error of their ways.

From everything Giles had put together, these people were evidently supposedly here for the kid's protection ... and yet, they did not intervene. Xander clearly saw bruises on the kid when he came out this morning to do the gardening. Fresh bruises that were far, far too dark to have possibly come from anything that happened during the school year, given that two weeks had passed since then. And the kid held himself rather stiffly, which probably meant bruises in places other than face and arms, if not worse than that. He couldn't wait until sundown. That was when Operation Rescue Harry Potter would begin.

Finally, the sun went down. Xander grinned over at Spike, who'd been in the darkest corner of the attic while they waited for the sun to go down. "Let's roll. One of the twits went home, so there's only two down there. I got dibs on Stinky." Stinky being the only one Xander'd be able to find and fight without Spike's assistance, given their preference for staying invisible. Spike grinned evilly and gave Xander a mock salute as they clambered out onto the roof. He leapt down to the ground and seemed to melt into the darkness.

Xander grumbled as he had to shimmy down a drainpipe to reach the ground. "Showoff." There was no real acrimony in his tone, since the good alone knew that Spike's ability to disappear into the night had saved their bacon more than once over the last three years. Besides, Xander had finally come to terms with the fact that he wasn't a super-powered fighter, knowing he made contributions to the cause in other ways.

Locating Stinky was easy enough ... the bastard still smelled like a three-day-bender. Xander didn't even need to get downwind of him to pinpoint his location. And clearly the bastard was paying zero attention to anything, as Xander was able to sneak up on him without him even noticing. The toughest part was figuring out where the guy's head was at, exactly, but then he was kind enough to belch, giving Xander the information he needed. One full-strength punch (and some bruised knuckles) later, and the guy was out like a light.

He heard a faint bit of scuffling from the other side of the house, indicating that Spike hadn't quite been as lucky with his target, but there was no outcry, and Spike soon came around the corner, looking pleased with himself. "Got 'er. Better get in there, pet. Kid's heart's rabbiting something fierce."

"Right. Rescue ahoy." Xander said, then headed for the front door. It was the work of but a few moments to jimmy the lock with his lockpicking kit, and then he slipped in, grimacing in distaste both at the decor and the increased sense of something being 'wrong' here.

He got part of his answer as to the source of the wrongness when he got up the stairs and spotted the kid's room door. He turned on a penlight, just to be sure he'd seen what he thought he'd seen. There were about a half dozen locks on the door, and a cat flap at the bottom. Pissed as hell didn't even begin to cover Xander's reaction.

"What. The. Fuck."

Xander had a hard time restraining the urge to go into the adults' bedroom and do something exceedingly rash. Only the faint sounds of movement in the room stopped him. Xander paused a moment to consider. Harry had been through hell the last few years, but he was a survivor. Xander's entrance into the house hadn't exactly been totally silent and unseen, so the odds were good the kid had seen or heard something. Now, if Xander put himself in the kid's place ... ten to one said the kid was going to at least attempt to defend himself. Best at least try to let the kid know he wasn't a bad guy before he started on the locks and headed in there.

"Harry, I promise you I mean you no harm. Can I open the door without you walloping me?"

There was a long hesitation, like the kid was thinking it over, before he got a somewhat hesitant sounding "Yeah."


	2. Hello There!

Hello There!

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 14, Privet Drive

Harry Potter sat on the rickety bed in the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet drive and stared out the window into the growing darkness. He'd been locked into the room just fifteen minutes ago. It seemed that not even the Order's threats and the knowledge his 'mass murderer' godfather was still out there was quite enough to stop the Dursleys entirely, though it had mitigated the worst of the damage. They seemed to content themselves with locking him up and letting Dudley manhandle him under the theory that 'roughhousing' would not raise eyebrows.

And it seemed they were right. Harry knew there were Order members out there, but not a one had said anything. At least he had the comfort of knowing Remus wasn't one of the ones not saying anything. He was staying with Sirius (someone had to keep Sirius out of trouble! Harry didn't envy Remus the task). But the knowing the Order members were out there wasn't what had him staring out the window.

He'd had the sense he was being watched all day. And given that he hadn't been getting that sensation since he got dumped here (yet the Order was around all the time), Harry was prone to thinking that some Death Eater was somewhere nearby. It'd had him on edge, and wishing desperately for his wand all day. The distraction had earned him a clout across the head from Vernon, in the relative safety of the house where no one would see. And he'd been denied food. Again.

The first he knew of potential trouble was when there was a rustling thump near the fence. Moments later there was another among the shrubbery.

Harry tensed. His wand and trunk were both in the cupboard under the stairs, leaving him all but defenseless. Even Hedwig wasn't here, as she was delivering his 'I'm fine' letter at the moment. He didn't even know how many there were or where they were. He grabbed the chair by the desk and got behind the door. It wouldn't be much, but he could at least try to take out whoever came up here.

Footsteps. One pair, from the sound of it, coming up the stairs. A faint gleam of light just outside the door.

"What. The. Fuck." Adult male voice, definitely not British, and one Harry didn't recognize, though that wasn't saying all that much. Whoever they were, they sounded seriously pissed off. There was a long pause, and then. "Harry, I promise you. I mean you no harm. Can I open the door without you walloping me?"

Harry stared at the door for a minute, debating his options. He could either believe the guy, or not. He was either a Death Eater or not. If the guy was a Death Eater, Harry's ass was so much grass, because aside from the chair, there wasn't much of anything he could defend himself with in here. However, a Death Eater would have just plowed the door down and started shooting spells. "Yeah." He finally said, moving back from the door but keeping the chair, putting it between him and the door, frail protection though it was. A bit of quiet cursing and five clicks later, and the door opened. Harry blinked at his visitor.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and powerfully muscled, the man more or less filled the doorway. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and had clearly seen some fighting, what with the edges of scars visible around the collar of his shirt and over his forearms, exposed by the short-sleeved shirt he was wearing, and a leather eyepatch over one eye. The remaining eye swept the room in a swift glance that missed nothing. The guy put Harry in mind of Moody, with the way he was standing and checking things out. The impression of a battle-hardened warrior faded a good bit when the dark-haired man grinned. That expression put Harry in mind of Ron a little, before the monthly threats of death had soured their friendship. There was a closer resemblance to Sirius though, both in coloring and the ... mischief ... hinted at by the grin.

"Hi, Harry. My name's Xander Harris. I'm from the New Watcher's Council. Not going to go into the whole spiel right now because there's not enough time tonight to cover everything, but we deal with the critters that go bump in the night. Up until a month or so ago, we didn't know about the wizarding world, but that changed when someone pulled some sort of big ritual. We poked our noses around to figure out what happened, 'cause usually that sort of thing is very of the bad in our business, and found out about this Moldyshorts guy and you. And, well, a friend and I got sent in to offer our help."

Harry blinked at ... Xander. Had he breathed at all? And ... Moldyshorts? Harry would pay pretty much every galleon in his vault to see Voldemort's expression if someone called him that to his face, so long as he had something very solid to hide behind. It was bound to be rather ... interesting. Harry couldn't quite help but grin. He relaxed a bit and finally managed to speak up. "New Watcher's Council? What's that? And how could you help?"

"Take you somewhere that's actually, honestly safe, for starters." Xander answered the last question first. "Teach you stuff the lot you're with haven't bothered with or don't know themselves." His voice gave away his disgust at the adults in charge of Harry's education thus far. "As for who the Council is ... short version is, we're people that hunt and kill demons and bad guys that like to try to end the world in any of a number of ways. Most of us don't have magic, but we do have people who're magical."

It was a very tempting offer. Harry considered it for a moment. The good knew Dumbledore had done nothing to prepare him. Told him nothing, even when Harry had asked straight out. And if these people were used to dealing with major troublemakers, they might just be able to teach him things that Dumbledore couldn't even if he was willing to teach Harry.

"Oh, and the offer's good for your friends ... Granger, wasn't it? And Weasley?" Xander added.

"Hernione and Ron." Harry supplied. He was ... hesitant ... to include Ron. After the last two years, the bulk of which Ron had spent being a right wanker, their friendship was nowhere near as strong as it had been the first two years. The only reason Harry didn't disinclude him was the fact that he'd need to be able to protect himself even if he'd never been Harry's friend. That he was, even if the friendship was on shaky ground, just made him a larger target.

Somewhere safe, both from Death Eaters and the Dursleys. People willing to help him. To teach him. It was a hell of a tempting offer, one he'd very much like to accept. Except ...

"They won't let me go, you know." He told Xander.

That got him a distinctly predatory grin from Xander. "Oh, no worries, Harry. They won't find you where you're going. I guarantee it. We've got a very, very powerful witch of a sort different from the kind you know on our side. I'll match her against any two of yours any day." Ok, so Willow might not be that uberpowerful, but she was damned close these days. And he pitied anyone that pissed her off. She didn't need to go Darth Willow to scare the pants off of people, and she was ... extremely inventive ... with the expression of her ire, to boot.

Harry wasn't quite sure if what he were saying was truth, but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had, after all, managed to knock out the Order watchers without being seen. Handling Dumbledore would be an entirely different kettle of fish, but Harry was desperate enough to take the chance. "Ok, I'll go."

Xander nodded. "This your stuff?" He asked, waving a hand around the room.

Harry shook his head. "It's almost all my cousin's. My stuff's in the trunk in the cupboard under the stairs."

"Right. I'll get that. You pack up whatever's up here that's yours. Oh, and so you don't get startled, I've got a friend of mine standing watch outside. Goes by the name of Spike." Xander said, then turned and headed back down the stairs.

Harry nodded, and, once Xander disappeared, he dove under his bed to get the few bits and pieces hidden there that meant anything to him, then yanked the pillowcase off his pillow and put the stuff in there. That, Hedwig's cage, a few changes of clothes, and he was done. By the time he'd crept down the stairs, Xander had the trunk free.

"There's a broom in there too that's mine." Harry told him.

"Ahh. Wondered about that. Didn't look like it'd been used much." Xander said.

Harry gave Xander a horrified look. "You don't sweep with it! You fly on it!"

Xander blinked at him for a second, then grinned and snickered. "Willow's going to have a fit when she hears about that. Ah well." He ducked back into the cupboard and came out with Harry's Firebolt. Xander then led the way outside. "Spike, I got him. Any sign of trouble?" He called, unsure where Spike had got to while he'd been inside.

"Nah, pet. This bunch of wankers is still out for the count."

The cockney accent was all that kept Harry from yelling in alarm when a lean, blonde-haired man with more than a passing resemblance to the Malfoys oozed out of the shadows. He could not even begin to conceive of a Malfoy with such a 'low class' accent, ever, but man, this guy looked like a brother or cousin. Seriously. It was just as well he didn't have his wand in hand yet, or he'dve gotten dangerously close to hexing the guy.

"And nobody's shown up yet, so evidently there's nothing on 'em to alert anyone if they get knocked out. Stupid wankers." Spike said, then eyed Harry, curious as to the source of the boy's alarm, as well as amused by it.

"Yeah, well that stupidity is working in our favor. Let's get the heck out of here before they figure out something's happening. C'mon Harry ... we parked a couple streets over to keep anyone from noticing." Xander said.

Spike grabbed Harry's trunk and shouldered it with startling ease, and they walked a couple of blocks before stopping in front of a small lorry. His trunk and broom and Hedwig's cage went into the bed, and the three of them piled into the cab.

They drove for hours in relative silence ... well, aside from the radio blasting and Xander's tolerant grumbling. Spike had dialed into a station that played a variety of rock songs, and then cranked it up to eardrum-bleeding levels. Finally, just before dawn, they stopped in a relatively remote area that was, as best Harry could tell, somewhere in Scotland. There was a two-story cabin sitting pretty much in the middle of nowhere, with only grass and the odd shrub for quite a distance around it in all directions. The perfect sort of place to see the bad guys coming, as it were. The three of them got out of the lorry. Spike grabbed Harry's trunk again, while Harry grabbed the pillowcase full of stuff from his room and his Firebolt. Xander grabbed Hedwig's cage, and all three of them started for the door. They hadn't got halfway when a very familiar cry preceded Hedwig dropping out of the sky towards Harry.

He shifted what he was carrying to one hand and held the other up. Hedwig landed with surprising delicacy on the proffered arm and 'walked' up it and onto his shoulder to nuzzle his cheek before turning her gold-eyed gaze on the other two men for a long moment, clearly debating as to whether or not she approved of them.

"Wow. Gorgeous owl you have there." Xander said. "What's its name?"

"Her name's Hedwig ... but I thought you knew that?" Harry asked

Xander shook his head. "We don't know everything. We knew you had a white owl, but not the name. We've only been digging for a couple weeks. Give us another few and we'll be able to tell you your great-grandfather's zodiac sign." Xander winked. While they probably could find that out if they dug hard enough, he was mostly teasing the kid.

Harry grinned at the tease, and they headed into the cabin.


	3. Slayers and Scoobies

Slayers and Scoobies

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 14, Privet Drive

The main room of the cabin was ... rather alarming. At first sight, it seemed tame enough, with two couches, a couple of chairs, a coffee table, and bookcases full of books. But then you realized there were weapons everywhere. There were daggers, axes, swords, and even what looked like a pair of short spears hanging on the walls, made of a variety of metals. There were sturdy chunks of wood with one end sharpened sitting in a small glass-fronted cupboard, along with small containers of a clear liquid and, weirdly, what looked like a souped-up version of a kid's water gun. And that was just what he could see. He gave Xander a wide-eyed look.

"Ummm ... what is all this stuff?" He wanted to know.

Xander grinned. "It'll all get explained in a bit, I promise. Nickel tour first, then some food. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

The rather awkward silence that followed had Xander giving Harry a long look before shooting a look at Spike over Harry's shoulder. Harry glanced over and swallowed hard. As mad as Xander looked, Spike looked downright homicidal.

"Right. Tour. This is the main room, obviously. Kitchen's through there." Xander said after a moment, then pointed to the lefthand of two doors on the far wall. "Bathroom's through the door to the right. There's a utility room you get in via the kitchen tucked behind the bathroom. Basement's a training room. Upstairs has four bedrooms and another bathroom. Just as a note ... all the weapons you see are very sharp, so please don't go poking the blades. C'mon, we can get you settled in one of the rooms upstairs."

Harry followed Xander up the stairs that were on the righthand side of the main room. There wasn't all that much to see, just a fairly narrow corridor with two doors on one the left and three on the right.

"Bedrooms on the left are taken, but you can pick whichever of the other two you want." Xander told Harry. "I'm going to head back downstairs and get something cooking. You're not the only one needing a bit of something to eat." And it would give him a few minutes to fume away from Harry. He was beginning to regret not having done something to the Dursleys when he had the chance.

Harry nodded, and since Hedwig was starting to get a bit heavy on his shoulder, headed for the nearest door on the right. The room was very nearly as plain as the room he'd left on Privet Drive, though the bed, desk, and chair were all in far better condition than the ones he'd left behind. The decor was also a bit cheerier. The walls were painted a bright yellow, with a yellow and white duvet on the bed. He dropped the pillowcase on the bed and put Hedwig's cage on the desk.

"Well girl, what do you think?" he asked as he transferred her to her cage. Hedwig regarded him for a moment before clicking her beak and hooting. Harry chuckled. "Right. It's better than the Dursley's. That's really all that matters. At least for now."

Spike came in then, Harry's trunk on his shoulder, and dropped it at the foot of the bed, then left without a word. Harry gave Hedwig a last pet before he went over to the trunk and got his wand out, sighing in relief to have it on hand again, and then headed downstairs.

There was rather a lot of noise coming from the kitchen ... pots and pans and drawers and doors slamming about. Harry somewhat hesitantly poked his nose into the kitchen, only to find a rather agitated-looking Xander slapping (almost literally) a quick (and very American) dinner of hot dogs and mac and cheese together, grumbling under his breath.

"Ummm ... Xander?" Harry called, somewhat intimidated. He was just glad that Spike was either in his room or the basement at the moment, as dealing with two irked men was a bit more than he wanted to handle at the moment.

Xander swung around, blinked at Harry, then gave himself a shake and took a deep breath before giving Harry an apologetic grin. "Sorry. Just a bit irritated. Not at you though. Take a seat. I'll start trying to explain Spike and me." The attempts at cooking resumed at a more normal energy and noise level.

"This ought to be a bit easier for you to handle, given you've already found out about one world that most folks don't know exist." Xander started. "The story goes, way back, there were a lot of really nasty demons running around, and a rather pathetically small population of humans that were mostly hors de vours. Some magic users ... dunno if they were your type or ours ... got a bit desperate and, in a bid to keep humankind from getting wiped out, shoehorned a bit of demon into a little girl and tossed her in the direction of the demons." Xander explained with a sour look on his face. Then he sighed.

"Since she got enhanced strength and healing out of the deal, she survived longer than an ordinary human would have, but she went down eventually. But when she did, another girl with the same abilities popped up and picked up where she left off. At some point, the demons got driven back enough that most of them got chased off the planet, but there were still some around. Vampires and the like. And the girls were there to kill them off." Xander eyed Harry. "With me so far?" When Harry nodded, he continued.

"The people that made the first girl set up watches on her and her successors, and eventually became known as Watchers, and were mostly not magical after a while. They set up a whole support network to find the girls that might get the abilities and train them so they didn't flounder when it happened." Hah, yeah. And then went corrupt as hell at some point, but Xander wasn't going to get into that.

"Flash forward to about a decade ago now. New girl gets the demon-killing mojo. Moves to a town called Sunnydale, which is where me and my two best friends lived. Thing is, the three of us had no idea the town was built on top of a weak spot between Earth and hell called a hellmouth." Yeah, this was the overly simplified version of things, but they'd be here all week if Xander tried to give Harry the detailed version. "We found out shortly after the new girl ... they're called Slayers ... showed up." Xander sighed. "Lost one of my best friends very shortly thereafter when he got vamped. I've been helping the Slayer ever since."

"Helping." Spike said from the doorway as he walked in, sounding both amused and disgusted. "Xan, you make it sound like all you ever did was hold the bint's purse. Know that's the way they saw it for a while, but it's about as far from true as you can bloody well get. Y'saved the Slayer's life more'n once. You faced down Angelus without so much as a toothpick for a weapon. You got the rocket that blew the Judge into bitty smithereens that'll probably never get put together again, 'cause I don't think all of him survived the blast. An' that don't even really start the list, pet. The bloody demons are as scared of you these days as they are of her."

Xander rolled his remaining eye. "Yeah, whatever Spike." He was well aware that Spike was saying nothing more than the truth, but he had an aversion to tooting his own horn. He put a plate of hotdogs on the table, and grabbed some bread, catsup and mustard from the fridge. "You want relish?"

Harry, who'd been listening to all this with a rather gobsmacked expression on his face, finally blinked. "Er, no thanks. What do you mean by your kind of magic users versus mine?" He finally asked, going for the one thing he could really get any sort of handle on. Slayers and demons, oh my. And he thought he had it bad, dealing with Voldemort and his Death Eaters!

"None of the magic wielders I know use a wand." Xander explained. "They all tap into magic other ways. Rituals, incantations, that sort of thing. That's how we stumbled across your world. That Moldyshorts fellow tapped into the sort of magic we know and use for whatever the heck it was he was doing."

Harry grinned broadly at the derogatory name and snickered. "Moldyshorts. You're going to give just about everyone in my world kittens, calling Voldemort nicknames like that. Most of them resort to calling him 'You-Know-Who' and are scared crapless of him." He looked over at Spike and, after a moment, finally decided to ask. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Malfoy, would it?"

Spike blinked. "Nah. Never heard of 'em."

Harry sighed in relief. "You look rather a lot like you might be related. Had me wondering there for a minute. I darn near took off running when I first saw you, 'cause Malfoy, especially the elder, is so very bad news in so many ways."

Xander grinned. "He bleaches his hair. And since we're on the subject of Spike ... he's a vampire. He's got a soul, though, so he's given up on the 'killing people for shits and giggles' thing."

Harry peered at Spike, half worried and half not believing Xander, because everything he knew about vampires said that they were right nasty blokes at best. Spike rolled his eyes and shifted to gameface, which had Harry yelping in surprise, rearing back and reaching for his wand all at the same time ... which very nearly resulted in him smacking headfirst into the floor as his chair tried to come out from underneath him. He scrambled back to his feet, but hesitated at actually aiming his wand at Spike, staring at the ridges and teeth. Definitely a vampire, but also, clearly, not exactly interested in sucking at least Xander and himself dry, given Spike had evidently been hanging around Xander a good long while, and been in the car with both of them for hours without so much as a hint of danger.

"Dammit, Spike!" Xander snapped, sounding both irked and amused. He cuffed Spike upside the head. "We're supposed to be helping him, not doing Moldy's job for him." He scolded, then put the mac and cheese on the table and sat down.

Spike gave Xander an amused smirk, and flipped him off, but did shift back to his human face.

Face burning, Harry tried to regain his composure and dished himself out some food. "So, you fight demons. And know people who know a sort of magic we don't use ... or don't use much. And you work with a vampire with a soul." Hermione was going to have fits when she heard about this, no two ways about it. "That about sum it up?"

"Yep." Xander said. "You'll probably meet a few other people from our group before all's said and done, but for now, it's just Spike and I. We'll spend the next few weeks teaching you a few tricks, and we'll both be at that school of yours when school starts. From what we've been able to find out, you have more trouble there than you do anywhere else."

"You can say that again." Harry said with a sigh. "Can I contact a few people though? There's a few folks who will be tearing the island apart looking for me when they find out I've gone missing, and not because they want their 'boy-who-lived' back." And the last thing he needed was Sirius going off half-cocked and getting himself caught and Kissed on account of him.

"Absolutely. Not a problem." Xander said.

"Thanks." After that, Harry paid attention to his plate for a while. It felt good to have a full meal, even if it was something so simplistic. When he'd finally cleared his plate, he sat back with a bit of a yawn.

"That's it for tonight, I think." Xander said. "Why don't you head on upstairs? Write your friends if you can stay awake, otherwise you can do it in the morning."

Harry nodded. "I really appreciate this."

"Not a problem." Xander repeated with a grin.

Spike just gave him a wordless wave as Harry headed off to the stairs. Once in his room he offered Hedwig a bit of hot dog he'd saved for her, then dug parchment and quill out of his trunk.

_Dear Snuffles and Moony,_

_Before you two panic completely, I'm fine. You're never going to believe what happened tonight. A guy by the name of Xander Harris showed up. Says he's from the Watcher's Council. Have either of you heard of that? Anyway, he explained a bunch of things, and said the Council'd stumbled across Voldemort's existence back last month, and wanted to help. Given that Fudge has his head firmly buried in the sand (or is that up his own arse?), I figure we could use all the help we can get. They offered me somewhere safe from both Voldemort and the Dursleys, and to help train me, which is, let's face it, a damn sight more than Dumbledore's offering. I've decided to take them up on the offer, so by the time you get this, the Order's probably going to be up in arms over me being missing. I repeat, I'm safe. I solemnly swear._

_Harry_


	4. No More Weapon

No More Weapon

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 14, Privet Drive, near dawn (after Harry's escape)

Four in the morning wasn't a fit time for man nor beast, Moody thought to himself as he stumped up Privet drive, both disillusioned and hidden under an invisibility cloak. His eye swiveled in every direction, ensuring there were no skulkers about as he headed for where Mundungus /ought/ to be, and if he wasn't, Moody would be having a word or three with the sticky-fingered thief.

"Mundungus!" He hissed. Nothing. Moody stomped closer to Number Four ...

And promptly tripped over something sticking out from under the hedge. He glanced down with both magical and normal eyes and swore viciously before yanking off the cloak that was hiding Mundungus's very unconscious but alive body. He crouched down to examine the man. There was no sign of any spells on him. Matter of fact, there didn't appear to be a mark on him, at least until he turned the body over and spotted the goose egg on the back of the man's skull. He stood up, magical eye whirling madly, and stomped to the other side of the house, only to find Tonks in like condition, though she did have a few bruises that suggested whoever had done this hadn't gotten quite as neat a drop on her as they had on Mundungus. That didn't surprise him too much. Dung was, after all, a thief and a drunk, where Tonks was an Auror. He cursed again, then turned to sweep the house with his eye. Once he confirmed their worst fear ... that Harry was gone ... he whipped his wand through the air, sending an urgent patronus-message to Dumbledore, then bent to tend to Tonks.

"Dammit, girl who the hell got the drop on you?" He growled. A few healing spells and she began to stir.

By the time a very concerned-looking Dumbledore, accompanied by a pinch-faced McGonagall and a seriously angry Snape arrived five minutes later, both Tonks and Mundungus were on their feet again, though both were a bit woozy. Dung more than Tonks, since he had both a hangover and a distinct lack of healing spells to deal with. Dumbledore looked from them to the house and then back.

"Can either of you tell me what happened?" He asked, sounding far too calm for the situation, though Moody noticed the twinkle was distinctly absent.

Tonks grimaced as she leaned against the house. "Sorry sir. I didn't get a very good look. Someone managed to sneak up on me from behind. I caught a flicker of movement at the last second and managed to get a hit or two in, but there wasn't room or time to pull my wand. Ten or fifteen seconds later, I was out. Only thing I really remember is white-blonde hair, but if that was a Malfoy, my name is Umbridge. Lucius would sooner kiss a Muggle than get into a fistfight, and from what I've heard, the kid's just as bad."

Moody had to agree with that analysis. Lucius wouldn't hesitate to hex someone six ways from Sunday, but the blonde-haired poofter would never stoop to physical violence.

"Mundungus?" Dumbledore asked, looking a bit less than calm at Tonks' report. Someone, possibly a Malfoy, had been at Privet Drive? Not good. Not good at all.

"Didn't see nor hear a thing. And I didn't sign on for this! I think I'll just be going." Mundungus whined, then tried to sidle away.

"Stay, Mundungus." Dumbledore commanded before the man got more than two or three steps. Mundungus grimaced, but stopped trying to sneak off. "Were the Dursley's killed, Alastor?"

Moody shook his head. "Can see them snoring away in their beds, Dumbledore. Don't know what to make of this. Never seen anything like it."

"Severus?" No need for more than the man's name, as Severus would know the question.

"I have heard nothing, Headmaster, as you well know. If a Death Eater had done this, they would have handed the boy to the Dark Lord by now, and I would have been called." Severus snarled.

Dumbledore sighed. "Search the house for any clues. We must discover who did this, and why."

It didn't take long. Moody headed in first, hexing the Dursleys to keep them asleep so they could search in peace. The others spread out to search for clues, both inside and out. What they found was nothing. No sign of magic of any kind, nothing left behind. Worse, there were no signs of struggle and not so much as a quill of the boy's belongings remained.

"He's run away then." Snape sneered, jumping to the conclusion he liked best. "Typical spoiled ... "

"Severus!" Dumbledore scolded. Severus sneered at the Headmaster but didn't continue his rant. "Regardless whether Harry has run away or been kidnapped, we must find him. Alastor, Minerva, Nymphadora, I shall need your assistance. Alastor, if you would check all methods of transport? Minerva, if you would be so kind as to check with the neighbors, see if anyone saw anything. Nymphadora, if you would be our ears in Diagon and Knockturn Alley. I will speak to the Weasleys, as Harry is likely to head there if he left of his own free will. I believe it would be wise to not inform Remus and Sirius of this until we have more information. We can ill afford either of them acting rashly."

Everyone nodded and split up to their tasks. Severus could only wait for Voldemort to summon him, or not. In the meantime, he would go back to his potions. Dumbledore just hoped any summons did not have anything to do with Harry. If it did, all was lost. Harry was all that stood between the Wizarding world and disaster. However, given the complete lack of anything approaching a struggle, and taking the blood wards into account, Dumbledore rather suspected Harry of having run away.

WHY couldn't that boy do as he was told? Dumbledore wondered as he made his way back to Hogwarts and his office. He was quite sure the boy had run off. After all, he'd done so before. Harry was remarkably stubborn. He refused to listen and do as he was told, to realize that Dumbledore knew what was best for him and let Dumledore do what needed to be done. Sirius was proving to be quite a nuisance as well, now he was free, constantly questioning Dumbledore and resisting Dumbledore's decrees regarding Harry. Remus at least did as he ought and had the proper attitude, or pretended to at the very least, never overtly questioning Dumbledore and going along with his decisions. Dumbledore was, however, wary of that compliance, given that Remus had once been a Marauder, and possibly owed his primary allegiance to someone other than Dumbledore. Black was a good bit more blatant with his defiance.

They needed to find Harry, and quickly. The sooner things were back under control and back the way they ought to be, the better. The last thing Dumbledore needed was to lose control of Harry.

July 14, Grimmauld Place, late evening

Sirius hated Grimmauld Place. He hated it with a passion. He wanted out. He wanted away. He wanted to be with Harry, helping him. It was bad enough he'd screwed up when Harry was a baby and had been stuck in Azkaban and unable to help him. Sirius just couldn't tolerate being out and, again, not being able to help his godson. It was driving him barmier than the Dementors ever had. And being in this god-forsaken house was not helping. Too many bad memories everywhere he looked. He spent most of his time pacing, hexing his mother's portrait, yelling at Kreacher, or, if he needed a break, searching through the Black library for ... well, he didn't know what he was looking for, honestly. Something to help Harry, certainly. When he could manage to sit still for more than five minutes, he did a lot of writing, sorting things out and trying to figure out some sort of plan.

Dumbledore was up to no good. That much, Sirius knew for fact. Twelve years without a trial, when Dumbledore was Chief Warlock, Head Mugwump and all that rot said it plain enough. Oh, he knew Bagnold and Crouch had been the primary ones behind his incarceration, but Dumbledore had the power to do something about it, and hadn't. Hell, he'd yanked Harry away from Sirius even before he got thrown into Azkaban.

Sirius had only met Petunia a couple of times, but meeting her even once was enough to let him know exactly what sort of person she was. And if that wasn't clue enough, the fact that Harry had jumped on his offer of a home more or less instantly made it really clear that life at the Dursley's was no picnic. Harry hadn't said anything about what actually happened there, but Sirius wasn't stupid, and having lived through a certain degree of abuse (mostly verbal) himself, he knew some of the signs.

Sirius reckoned the old coot just wanted a weapon. A good, biddable, obedient weapon, and was banking on the Dursleys breaking Harry. Thank Merlin for Potter bullheadedness. Harry was made of far sterner stuff than Dumbledore suspected. And probably a good bit smarter than Dumbledore wanted, to boot.

"Sirius, sit /down/." Remus said, somewhere between exasperated and amused. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Remus watched as his old friend finally sat down. Truth be told, he didn't much blame Sirius. He was worried about Harry too. Terrified, actually. Between Dumbledore, Snape, Fudge and Voldemort, Harry was in rather dire straits, and the worst part was, there was nothing an escaped con and a werewolf could do about it. He'd just sat down when a very familiar snowy owl flew in.

"Hedwig? What on earth? You were here just yesterday!" Remus sputtered. Sirius was a touch quicker off the mark. He hurried over and removed the letter from Hedwig's leg.

"I hope he's ... " Sirius started as he opened the letter, only to go silent. And, a few moments later, to go a rather alarming shade of red. He folded it in half and handed it over to Remus, and, in a cold, utterly calm tone said. "I am going to kill Dumbledore. Just so you know."

"Sirius?" Remus asked, more than a little worried. He'd never heard that sort of tone out of Sirius. Ever. He opened the letter and read it through. Twice. Then a third time. "I think I might join you." Harry had left Privet Drive. That in and of itself was alarming. That either no one had noticed or they had not Remus and Sirius, was even more alarming. That Harry had left Privet Drive with a virtual unknown was by far the worst, though Watcher's Council sounded vaguely familiar to him, somehow. He'd have to think about it. "We need to write back."

Sirius nodded, and headed off to find ink and quill. Moments later, the sounds of spells hitting things and Mrs. Black's outraged screams filled the air. A few minutes later, Sirius came back in with the needed items, looking a bit calmer. "So, which do you think it is, they've not noticed, or they're not telling us?"

"Not telling us." Remus said almost instantly. "As carefully as Dumbledore watches Harry, I can't begin to imagine that he's unaware of Harry leaving Privet Drive."

Sirius sighed and nodded. "True." He agreed. "Well, let's get to it. And then we're going to have to do some planning, my friend."

"Agreed." Remus said, then grabbed the quil and parchment.

_Harry_

_We need to see you. Where are you? We know you said not to worry but that's rather like telling an elephant to get rid of its trunk. We both understand your frustration with your lack of preparation for dealing with Voldemort, but taking off with a virtual unknown was rather rash. Please write back soon, as if you don't, we WILL come looking for you._

_Remus and Sirius._

It was a bit on the short side, but they didn't have much to go on. Remus sighed as he tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. "As quick as you can, Hedwig. We're both rather worried." He told her, and she took off. Once she was gone, he looked at Sirius. "I've heard of the Watcher's Council before. Can't remember where, though. I'm heading to the library."

"I'll join you." Sirius said. Searching for a reference to this Council would at least give him something to do other than fret.


	5. The Life and Times of Harry Potter

The Life and Times of Harry Potter

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 15, The Cottage

Xander woke to the wonderful, delightful smell of frying bacon. This confused him. In the time they'd worked together, Xander could count the number of times Spike had cooked a meal, any meal, on one hand with fingers left over ... and each time the sole reason behind it happening had been Xander being too injured to do his own cooking and there being no one else around to do it. A few moments of blinking blearily at the ceiling dragged the reminder of Harry into his sleep-fuddled brain, and he pushed himself out of bed and into the shower.

He was worried about Harry. The kid reminded him, rather painfully, of Buffy whenever the deadliness of her calling hit particularly close to home. Harry had the lost, pained, worn look in his eyes that only came from dealing with death on a personal basis, whether for the first or thousandth time (well, as long as you weren't psychotic). He needed people to talk to. The Scoobies sure as hell had needed that too, more than once, though Xander knew he'd have denied it if the subject had been brought up to his teenaged self. But distance, time, and growing up (in more than one way) had made him a bit more honest, if only in his own head.

The problems started with the people in Harry's life. Xander had no idea what this Headmaster of Harry's was playing at, but what Giles and the other researchers had put together did not paint a pretty picture. It was, to Xander's eye, rather reminiscent of the old Council, actually. 'Here, kid. You're destined to do this. But we're going to brainwash you and treat you like shit and manipulate you and not give a damn about anything other than your ability to kill what you're born to kill.' Given the old Council's attitude towards the rare few Slayers who managed to live to any decent age, this had very alarming connotations for Harry's eventual fate.

Or it had. Until now. Spike hadn't been kidding about the demon world being nearly as scared of him these days as they were of Buffy. But then, the fact that he had a tendency to blow demons into little bits, quite literally, (He loved C4. And thermite. And ... well, you get the idea) when they messed with his girls might have something to do with it. That he'd banjanxed more prophecies than any other two people in the process ... well, that just made it worse.

Giles hadn't, unfortunately, been able to get the wording of the actual prophecy. He'd just been able to discover that there was one regarding Harry and Voldemort. Xander made a mental note to see if Harry knew what it was. He doubted it, but it was worth a shot.

Washed and dressed, he headed downstairs, and leaned against the door of the kitchen. Harry hadn't noticed him yet, focused on cooking with the sort of determined concentration that someone who doesn't really like to cook, but who needs to get an edible meal out of what they're cooking tends to use.

Harry was way too thin. And too short for his age. They'd have to build him up. Maybe some of the nutrient crap they sold at health stores. Xander was reluctant to rely on a magical method, both because magic tended to be of the bad in his books and because he had no way of knowing if there was something that would help Harry in that world, much less whether or not they'd be able to get a supply of it, given they would doubtlessly be pissing off quite a few high and mighty muckity mucks in short order, if they hadn't already. He grinned crookedly, wishing he'd be able to be there when Dumbledore discovered Harry was missing. Unfortunately, it'd be impossible.

He waited until Harry had his hands away from the stove and pots before he cleared his throat. Harry whipped around and gave him a startled look.

"You didn't have to fix breakfast, you know." He told Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Yeah, I can tell. Get the letters off?"

"Letter, but yeah. I'm going to wait a bit to tell Hermione, or she's going to go mental with the questions, take me with her, and wear Hedwig's wings to a nubbin before she even gets here."

Xander laughed. "Your Hermione sounds a good bit like my friend Willow." He plopped down at the table. "So, you know a bit about us. You up for telling us a bit about yourself?"

Harry transferred the eggs and bacon to the table. "Grew up with the Dursleys, who ... well, let's just say they don't like me and leave it at that. Had no clue I was a wizard until a bit before my eleventh birthday." He couldn't help but grin at the memory. "Was quite a fun week or so, let me tell you. I'm fairly sure my uncle Vernon lost what few marbles he possessed. Eventually, Hagrid came to get me. Told me a few things, like how my parents had really died and who'd done it, and that I was famous for not dying. Met Ron and Hermione on the train, though I really didn't get to be good friends with Hermione until Halloween. Ron ... " Harry sighed and played with the food on his plate. "We were good mates for a long time there, you know? But somewhere along the way, it's like his jealousy got the better of him or something. We're nowhere near as close as we used to be."

"Anyway, that first year, that was Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone. And Fluffy and Norbert too. And becoming enemies with Draco Malfoy, and finding out Snape hated my guts before he'd so much as clapped eyes on me, though I didn't find out why until a few years later."

Xander cocked his head. "Ok, couple questions. Who's Quirrel, who's Snape, and who or what are Fluffy and Norbert?"

"Quirrell was our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher first year. Stuttered all the time and was apparently scared of his own shadow. We didn't find out until the end of the year that he actually had Voldemort attached to the back of his head, hidden under the turban he wore all the time." Harry explained.

Xander blinked. "Wait ... you're telling me this Moldywarts guy was in a schoolful of kids and no one noticed? And here I thought the Sunnydale effect was limited to hellmouths."

Harry snickered quietly at the nickname, then nodded. "Yeah. It was definitely weird, though I didn't think of that until later, 'cause I was only eleven at the time. Though I still haven't told the twins they were beaning Voldemort in the face with the snowballs they had following Quirrell everywhere that winter."

Xander laughed. "I want to be there when you tell them." He said.

"Norbert was a baby dragon that Hagrid hatched out of an egg that year. We had to smuggle him off school grounds to Charlie, Ron's older brother who works with dragons. We got in /so/ much trouble. And that was without anyone knowing we actually were smuggling a highly illegal animal off school grounds. I really don't want to know what they'd have done to us if they knew about Norbert. Fluffy was a gigantic three-headed dog they were using as part of the protections around the Stone."

Xander frowned. "Wait ... how would you know about that, then?"

"They had the stone at the school." Harry told him.

Xander's mouth fell open for a moment. "They WHAT! You mean to tell me ... they ... " Xander jumped to his feet and started pacing around, arms flailing. "Blasted idiotic morons. Trying to get people killed? What is that bearded goat playing at?"

It took him a minute to calm down and sit down again. "Sorry. I just ... I very much do not like manipulators and morons, and I'm fast reaching the conclusion that this Dumbledork fellow is both."

Harry sighed. "You know, a couple of years ago, I might have argued with you about that. By this point, I kind of agree with you. Anyway, last person is Snape. He's a greasy git, pretty much literally. He's the Head of Slytherin, and a more sneaky, snarky, mean bastard you'll never meet. He's completely biased against Gryffindors ... I don't think he's ever given one praise, nevermind House points, and his Slytherins can damn near literally get away with murder without him saying a word."

"Sounds like a principal I used to know back home." Xander said. "And I can't wait to see how he deals with Spike. That's going to be loads of fun."

Harry grinned. "Anyway, that was first year. When it was all said and done, I asked Dumbledore why Voldemort was after me. Still haven't gotten a straight answer to that question. I got packed back to the Durselys. Then Dobby showed up. He's a house-elf. He tried to warn me not to go back to Hogwarts because something bad was going to happen that year, and got me in a lot of trouble. A lot. But his heart was in the right place, and given who his masters were, he was risking his life to try to warn me, 'cause if they'd found out ... " Harry shuddered, not really wanting to know what Lucius would have done to Dobby. "Turned out he wasn't kidding. That was the basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets. Man, that was a mess. Everyone was so sure I was the heir of Slytherin and siccing the 'creature' on everyone. Which makes no sense if you know that one of my best friends at the time was a muggleborn!"

Xander was rather grateful to years of Scooby-ing. While they'd not known about the wizarding world, some things had evidently leaked through to the so-called muggle world. He'd heard of both Philosopher's Stones and basilisks before. "I /hate/ snakes." He admitted. "But then, that might have something to do with having to blow one up my last year of high school."

Harry blinked. Xander blew up a snake? Then he grinned. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm not all that keen on them myself." Especially not when being able to talk to them caused him so much trouble. "Anyway, that was my second year. Third year was, all things considered, pretty tame by comparison. That was the year I found out about Sirius, and met Remus. Pretty much the only really nasty part was the dementors."

"Dementors?"

"Yeah, they're nasty. Suck all the happiness out of you. And if they get their claws on you for too long, they suck out your soul." Harry explained.

"Right. Avoid dementors. Better, find a way to kill the things." Xander said.

"Anyway, since you're going to meet Sirius and Remus, I'd better explain. A guy named Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents to their death, but at the time, no one knew that except Sirius. He took off to confront the rat, and Peter played him. Started howling about 'how could you betray them' and such, blew a big hole in the street and bolted."

"Leaving Sirius to take the fall, I'll bet." Xander said.

"Got it in one. Sirius got tossed into Azkaban, our prison. Only, he never got a trial, and I don't think anyone ever even questioned him. Just chucked him in there. Flash forward twelve years, and he spots Pettigrew, who can change shape into a rat, in a picture with the Weasleys. He was Scabbers, Ron's pet rat. Sirius escaped from Azkaban to get Peter. He knew I'd be in school then, and having Peter that close to me was definitely not ok with him. Unfortunately, his escape caused a massive manhunt, which meant they had dementors on the train and such. Dumbledore got Remus, my parents' other friend, to teach DADA that year, hoping that if Sirius snuck onto the grounds, Remus would be able to ferret him out. Come the end of the year, me, Hermione and Ron find out about Peter and Sirius, but Peter managed to escape, and Fudge was going to kill Sirius anyway. We managed to get Sirius out of there and he's been in hiding ever since. Well, sort of. Fudge and the aurors have no idea where he's at, but I've been in contact with him, and so's Dumbledore." Harry glanced over at Xander, who looked ... well, less-than-pleased was putting it mildly.

"You know Harry, I'm starting to think I'm going to have /fun/ messing with everyone's heads." Xander told Harry. "Sounds like the lot of them need surgical help to get their heads out of their asses."

Harry grinned a bit. "Got to see the Quidditch world cup last summer, which was, of course, ruined by a bunch of Death Eaters."

Xander snickered, then waved a hand. "Sorry, sorry, but that name is ... rather amusing."

It was rather silly, Harry agreed. "Started school only to find out the Triwizard tournament was taking place at Hogwarts. And despite the fact that they set the age of contestants at seventeen, and despite the fact I never bloody went near the thing, my name came out of the cup they used to determine who'd compete. And I had to compete."

"Oh for the love of ... you're fourteen!"

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction." Harry said with a sigh. "Moody helped. So did Hermione, so did Dobby. Ron got his pants in a wad and decided I'd betrayed him by not telling him I was going to put my name in, or how I'd done it. He 'changed his mind' after the dragon, but ... " Harry shrugged. Ron's constant, never ending issues with his fame were really beginning to grate. It's not like Harry wanted it. Or reveled in it. Yet Ron seemed to think that despite the Dursleys and the constant life-threatening danger, that Harry had everything Ron wanted and deserved ... when most days, Harry would quite happily chuck the fame and the money for the tight-knit family that was the Weasleys. Well, minus Percy the prat, but he supposed every family had one of those. And Percy was, at least, mostly harmless.

"I got through the first two tasks all right, but at the end of the third ... " Harry took a deep breath and shuddered, then shook his head. "I ... dammit. The bloody prize had been made into a portkey ... something that pops people from one place to another more or less instantly. Cedric ... " His voice wobbled on the name, and he had to take another deep breath before continuing. "Cedric and I touched it at the same time. We got dumped in a graveyard. Peter killed him. I got trussed up on a grave marker, and Peter started putting stuff into the world's biggest cauldron. Next thing I know, Voldemort's stepping out in a brand new body. He called his followers, and a bunch of them showed up. He tried to duel me, but something weird happened with our wands, and I was able to get away. Moody pulled me aside, which is when I found out he wasn't really Moody, but some completely bonkers Death Eater. Dumbledore busted into the room just in time, and that pretty much wraps up the tale."

Xander knew that there was quite a bit more to the story, but he was more than willing to let Harry tell him the other bits as he was comfortable doing so. "Sounds like you've had a heck of a time of it." He said.

"Yeah."

"Well, c'mon. Time to show you the training room."

The two headed down to the basement. The entire thing had been transformed into a training area, with some weights along one wall, a heavy punching bag suspended from the ceiling, dummy swords, axes, and knives, and thick padding on almost the entire floor to cushion falls, as well as dummies and targets for solo aiming practice.

"Now, I'll freely admit there's not a thing I can do to help you when it comes to learning spells ... that's going to have to be up to your Remus and Sirius. But what I can teach you is how to deal with magic-users without resorting to magic yourself." Xander said. "See, the thing about magic users is, they get lazy. Magic becomes their answer for everything. So if you deprive them of the ability to use their mojo, they're pretty much helpless. That's true with the magic-users I know, and from the sounds of things, it's true of the witches and wizards in your world ... at least the ones who grew up in that world from the get-go. And since they seem to be the ones who're the problem ... " Xander shrugged. "So Spike and I're going to spend the next few weeks teaching you how to fight. It's not going to be pretty. It's not going to be fair. It's going to be dirty, sneaky, and vicious ... but if you learn it, I can guarantee that at the very least, you're going to startle the living hell out of a lot of folks. And at best, you'll win and walk away from the fight."

Harry thought that over for a bit. Some part of him knew that fighting dirty was not the Gryffindor way. But he was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that if it came down to a stand-up fight of hexes between himself and Voldemort (wherein something really freaky did not happen to occur regarding their wands) ... Harry would lose. He simply couldn't compete with the sheer amount of knowledge Voldemort had to possess. And he'd never actually been a pure Gryffindor, had he? The hat had wanted him in Slytherin. Maybe it was time he exercised some of that House's attributes. If it helped him survive, and kept his friends and hodge-podged together family alive, so much the better.

"Show me."

Xander gave a rather predatory grin. "That's the spirit, Harry. They're never gonna know what hit them. Now, just so I know ... I'll pretend I'm another wizard, and you show me about the average distance folks keep when they're tossing spells around," He started backing up. When he got about twenty feet or so from Harry, Harry held up a hand.

"Right about there's where Voldemort was from me. And Draco, when we were doing that rather aborted duel in the Dueling club second year."

Xander nodded. "Right. Gotcha. Stay put a second." He scuffed the mat where he'd been standing, then headed over to the cabinet that held the dummy knives, stakes, and other small weapons, as well as boxing gloves and rolls of tape. He grabbed one of the rolls of tape for the demo he had in mind. Actual wrestling and all that could happen a bit later in the day, as he didn't want to bruise Harry just showing him something. He returned to the spot he'd been standing, then grinned across at Harry.

"Ok. Now, try and hex me."

Harry was rather understandably hesitant. "But ... "

"I promise, Harry. It won't hit." Xander assured him.

" ... oh kayyyyyyyy." Harry said, sounding less than thrilled. He pulled his wand.

And never actually got it all the way up and pointed at Xander, nevermind called a spell, before a small roll of tape zinged through the air and smacked into his hand hard enough to completely screw up his aim.

"Whoah!" Harry blinked.

Xander grinned. "And that was just a roll of tape, thrown gently since I didn't want to hurt you. I can show you how to do that with a knife, hard enough to either knock the wand from their hand or put the knife through their hand, which will definitely put a damper on their day. And that's just one trick in the arsenal."

Harry contemplated the chaos such a thing would wreak amongst the Death Eaters, and grinned at Xander. "Show me." He said again.


	6. Scoobies, Meet Marauders

 

Scoobies, Meet Marauders

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 15, The Cottage

Xander was quite pleased. Harry had an almost scary ability to notice and track movement, especially if whatever was moving was at all shiny, and his aim wasn't half bad. It made him a quick study for the knife trick. Xander figured another day or two and he'd be hitting the bullseye every time, at which point they'd start working on moving targets and doing this under less than ideal circumstances.

They'd gotten so involved in what they were doing, Xander showing Harry how to grip and flip the knife and correcting his stance and aim, that Xander nearly jumped out of his skin when the basement door opened.

"Oi! You two. Get up here. Kid's bird's wanting in." Spike bellowed.

Harry blinked. "Oh gosh! Hedwig. We'd better not keep her waiting. She gets a bit cranky." He hurried up the stairs.

Xander followed along behind, then frowned slightly in confusion when he realized Harry had stopped a few feet into the main room. Then he realized Harry was glancing from the wide beams of bright sunlight to Spike and back.

"Wait, I thought vampires couldn't be in sunlight?" Harry asked, sounding very confused.

"They can't." Xander said, grinning. "The windows have been tinted to block the part of sunlight that makes vamps all toasty and dusty."

"Oh, gotcha. Where's Hedwig?"

"Bird's at the kitchen window." Spike told him. Harry immediately headed into the kitchen, and surprised Xander when he closed the door.

"So how's Scrappy doing?" Spike wanted to know.

"Scrappy? Really Spike? You can't do better than that?" Xander asked with a grin. "He's got good aim. He'll pick up the 'pin the hand to the wall' trick pretty fast. Hand to hand fighting may prove to be a problem, but we'll find out for sure tomorrow."

Spike regarded him for a moment. "Learned to duck rather than punch, did he?"

"I'm getting that impression, yeah." Xander admitted.

Harry came back in then, with Hedwig on his shoulder and a letter in his hand. "Sirius and Remus want to see me. And meet you two."

Xander laughed. "Kind of planned on that." He said. "We better do it soon. Your keepers must be getting downright panicky by now." He thought for a minute. "Normal-people London somewhere is probably our best chance. Do you think they'd be able to manage that?"

Harry almost immediately nodded. "Yeah. At least for long enough to meet up with us. But where?"

Xander was strongly tempted to recommend the Council HQ, but somehow he had a feeling that would be a bad idea. "That'll be the trick, won't it. You have much of an idea where the wizarding areas of London are at?"

July 15, Hogwarts

Dumbledore paced his office uneasily. It was now well past lunch, and the various members of the Order had reported in. There was no trace of Harry anywhere in the Wizarding World that the boy might know to go. Diagon and Knockturn Alley, the Leaky Cauldron, even Hogsmeade had been checked, and, as a last resort, Dumbledore had asked the house elves to check the castle for the boy. Nothing. It was becoming clearer by the moment that either the boy truly had been kidnapped in his sleep by someone, or he had fled into the Muggle world. Either way, their chances of finding the boy were slim to none. Dumbledore regretted not putting a tracking charm on the boy himself. Such a thing would have made finding him much simpler, even if it did hold a great risk of the boy discovering the charm.

Dumbledore could only cling to the fact that Voldemort had not yet summoned Severus, a fact that meant that Voldemort himself did not have Harry in his clutches, for surely the madman would wish for all his followers to see his triumph. It was but a small consolation.

Moody stumped in. "No trace of the boy by Knight bus, floo or portkey, and there've been no unregistered apparations all day yesterday or so far today."

Dumbledore sighed as he sat down. That had been the last hope, that some trace of the boy was to be found somewhere amongst the wizarding means of travel, all of which were watched, at least loosely, by the Ministry. "He is in the Muggle world then."

"Or got dragged off by someone." Moody insisted.

"Voldemort would have made the news that he had Harry public by now, if only among his followers." Dumbledore said.

"And you're assuming they'd hand him to Voldemort straight away?" Moody snorted in disgust. "Malfoy would want to play with the boy, and you know it, after everything the boy's done. Couple of the rest are just as bad. Just you thank whatever luck the lad lives by the Lestranges are still in Azkaban, or you'd really have something to fret over!"

Dumbledore slumped slightly. "You are probably right, Alastor." He admitted.

"And when're you going to tell the boy's godfather he's missing?" Alastor wanted to know.

"Tomorrow. I have hope the boy will try to get into Gringotts for money yet tonight or tomorrow morning."

"I'll keep an eye on the place then." Moody grumped, and stomped out. He did not like the games Dumbledore was playing one bit, and was sorely tempted to contact Remus.

July 15, Elsewhere

They'd settled on a park on the outskirts of Inverness, just after dusk. To keep Harry from being recognized on the off chance someone from the wizarding world spotted them, Xander went out and bought a wig and some concealer.

So it was, a little after lunch, that they got headed into Inverness. It took some looking, but they found a health food store, where Xander invested in mass quantities of vitamins, supplements, and dietary aids of the 'gain weight and muscle' variety. A few pairs of clothes and shoes that actually fit the poor kid were next on the menu.

Harry seemed to enjoy himself immensely. Whether it was the fact that he was able to walk around without getting stared at ... a brown-haired kid in a baseball cap, t-shirt and jeans did not garner much attention ... or something else, Xander wasn't sure, and wasn't going to ask, at least not yet. Harry needed a bit more time to decide whether he was going to trust Xander before he went digging for the kid's secrets. Dusk came, and shortly after that Spike arrived in their car, and the three of them headed for the park.

True to Scooby luck, things very nearly went pear-shaped the minute the five of them were in visual range of each other.

They were greeted by a scarred man with grey-touched brown hair and a vaguely familiar something to him that Xander couldn't quite put his finger on. He had an absolutely enormous black-furred mutt at his feet. There was no sign of a second man.

Harry gave a glad cry, but before he could take off towards the man, both man and dog started growling. And the man's eyes flashed gold for just a second.

"Harry, run! That's a vampire!" The man called, even as he started forward, reaching into his jacket. The dog just charged straight for them, fangs bared and snarling murderously.

"WHOAH!" Xander yelled. "HOLD IT. STOP! We're not a threat."

They weren't exactly listening. Xander met the dog's mad rush with a kick, while Harry, bless him, hustled over to the man, babbling nearly as fast as Willow on a sugar rush in his effort to calm the man down and explain things. At least now Xander recognized what it was about the guy that had seemed so familiar. If he wasn't a werewolf, Xander would eat his hat.

Xander was having interesting issues, however, and had to put his full concentration on the confrontation he was dealing with. 'Cause that dog did not stay a dog. Not after Xander kicked him aside. The dog yelped, rolled, and then, much to Xander's shock, morphed in to a seriously-pissed-off black-haired man, who then charged him again. Fortunately the guy was clearly not in the best condition and unpracticed at hand-to-hand fighting. Xander was able to put him on the ground with a relatively gentle throw. Pinning him, though, proved to be a challenge. The guy was doing his damndest to get away, all desperation and adrenaline-given strength, teeth bared as he spat some rather highly inventive threats and insults.

"Sirius!" The other guy's voice, so clearly that was Remus. "Sirius, enough. Stop. It's all right. Harry's been explaining. It's all /right/. Harry's fine. Harry's safe."

It took a minute to sink in, and several repetitions from Remus about the situation being ok and Harry being safe, but eventually Sirius stopped snarling threats and squirming like a greased eel. He sagged into the ground as the adrenaline finally drained away, panting with exhaustion. Xander stared down at him for a moment, not immediately releasing his grip on the man. "You going to try to kill us if I let you go?" He wanted to know.

"Only if you try to kill us." Sirius grumped.

"Fair enough, though, for the record, we've got absolutely no intention of trying to off the three of you." Xander cautiously let the man go, and they got to their feet.

"What in the name of hell are you doing running around with a damned vampire?" Sirius wanted to know, eyes darting from Xander to Harry. He also moved so he was between Spike and Harry. Remus was already there, and Xander was quietly impressed with the pair's protectiveness of Harry. He was getting the impression that given half a chance, these two would have no compunction with killing and dying in defense of Harry.

"Oi. Xan runs with me I'll have you know!" Spike protested, glaring at Sirius. He moved to stand beside Xander, putting a bit more distance between himself and Harry, clearly picking up on their suspicious protectiveness.

"Long, long, long story there. Short version is ... he's on our side. He's got a soul, and doesn't kill and torture for shits and giggles." Xander explained, ignoring Spike's complaint.

Sirius eyed Spike warily for a long moment, but then sighed and shrugged. At that point Xander glanced over at Harry, a grin twisting his expression. "Forgot to tell us a few details when you told us about yourself, hmm? Because there was nothing in that story about a werewolf and a ... " He flailed a hand at Sirius. "Whatever the heck that trick of yours is."

Remus had tensed up. "Is there going to be a problem?" He wanted to know, his voice full of resigned expectation. From the expression on his face, Xander reckoned the answer to that question had been 'hell yes' way more often than it had been any other answer.

"Not hardly. Not only do I have a friend who's a werewolf, but I hang out with a vampire. Long's you keep your teeth to yourself, we're good." Xander glanced around, grateful the park was empty at this hour. "We'd better get out of here before that ruckus attracts attention." He told them. "You guys got a ride, or do you wanna hitch with us?"

"I'm going with you." Was Sirius' immediate answer. Evidently, while he was willing to not try to kill Spike, he wasn't anywhere near comfortable having Harry around him unprotected.

In the end all of them trooped to the car Xander, Harry and Spike had arrived in, and drove out to the cottage. The drive itself was remarkably quiet, as if everyone had put a halt on serious talk until they were at their destination. Once inside, with tea made for the brits, and some coffee for Xander, they settled around the kitchen table, Xander and Spike on one side, Sirius, Remus and Harry on the other, with Harry between the two men.

"Right." Xander said. "Here's the deal. Have either of you heard of Slayers?" He asked. To his surprise, Remus nodded.

"Yes, actually. There wasn't much detail, as I recall, just something about a girl destined to fight dark creatures. There was far more concern over the ruckus that surrounded a young pureblood girl apparently being discovered to be one, a few hundred years ago." Remus said. "Even though she was a Squib, the uproar was enormous."

Xander filed the term 'squib' away to ask about later, and winced. "Oh boy. I can just imagine. Until very recently, it was pretty much standard procedure to take girls discovered to be possible Slayers, called potentials, away from their families. By force, if necessary. Along with the rare few girls that escaped discovery until after they became Slayers." And something like that would so not have gone over well with a society full of wizards.

"Basically, you've got the right of it. Girl, generally between the ages of twelve and sixteen, wakes up one morning with seriously enhanced strength and the ability to sense vamps and other demons and dark creatures. She gets taught to kick their asses if they start killing people or trying to end the world. At any rate, me and my best friend work with one. Have since we were only a year older than Harry here. She moved into our town, my other best friend got vamped, and as they say, the rest is history. But the Council really, really didn't like that the Slayer had backup, and gave us a lot of trouble. A few years back, they paid for their idiocy. Got wiped out by a particularly nasty oogity-boogity." Xander was SO not getting into the whole First Evil mess. Nope.

"We've been putting things back together since, and trying to do it better. My friend is a major earth witch. The little ritual that Moldywarts fellow pulled a month and a half or so ago got her attention. We started digging around, thinking some idiot was trying to end the world again. Instead we discovered Moldywarts, and Harry, and decided to come over and offer some help, because from the looks of things, you're not getting all that much."

The two men looked at each other, both of them grinning a bit at Xander's mocking nickname for Voldemort, and after a moment of silent conferencing, nodded. "Yeah." Remus said. "We could use the help. Harry needs it desperately. But we'd probably better fill you in on the bits Harry might not know."

And then he laid it all out. Voldemort's true identity. His known actions while in school, few as those were (amounting to the making of the diary and opening the chamber of secrets). His later near-meteoric rise to power, gathering many of the pureblood families to his banner despite the fact that he, as a half-blood, was exactly what the purebloods wanted to eliminate from their world. The prophecy (though not the wording of it, since neither Remus nor Sirius had a clue), the Potters going into hiding, Peter's betrayal and Dumbledore's subsequent manipulations. All of it.

"So ... Dumbledore thinks that Harry here is affected by this prophecy?" Xander asked.

Sirius nodded. "I don't know what the prophecy actually said. I don't think even James did, though Lily might have. It would explain certain things she did at the time. Just that it affected Harry and put him in great danger."

Xander snorted. "We don't need to know about the prophecy."

"But ... " Sirius started.

"Y'might wanna listen to the Boy Scout." Spike said, speaking up for the first time since Remus started with the story. "Boy's got a real habit of tearing prophecies all to hell and back. Beautiful thing it is to watch."

Xander shook his head at Spike in amusement. "Thanks blondie." Then, to the others. "He does have a point though. There was this prophecy we found out about, shortly after I met the slayer. Basically said a master vamp was going to kill her. Everyone else threw their hands up and gave up." Xander scowled at the memory. "I said fuck that and managed to keep her in the land of the living. Prophecies are nasty, vicious pieces of work that pretty much ensure they get fulfilled by freaking people out and forcing them into acting in ways that get them fulfilled. So we ignore this prophecy, whatever it is, teach Harry every trick in the book so he can kick the ass of anyone stupid enough to try to make a grab for him, and then me and Spike tear this idiot Moldywarts into bite-sized chunks, and everyone goes home happy."

Sirius and Remus looked like they could very much get behind that plan, simple as it was. They were all aware it probably wouldn't be that simple, but it was better than stressing out over some stupid prophecy that ... yeah. Xander had better things to do than play along with one of those.

"Right. So. Basic plan. We get you three fed up to a proper weight." Xander pointed at Remus, Sirius and Harry in turn. "And start you two." Here he pointed at Harry and Sirius. "Working out to build some muscle. Teach all of you some moves to fight with that wand-dependent idiots will never be able to deal with. You two start teaching Harry every spell you can think of," He pointed to Sirius and Remus. "and don't worry about your world tweaking to what we're doing here. We've got the cottage and grounds shielded." God bless Willow.

"We're going to have to deal with Dumbledore sooner or later." Remus said. "Sooner would probably be better."

Xander nodded at that. "You're probably right. Where's he likely to be?"

"Hogwarts. He hardly ever leaves there, except to go bang heads together at the Ministry, but they're pretty unhappy with him just now." Remus said. "Apparently, it isn't the done thing to let folks know a lunatic mass-murdering psycho has regained a body and is going to be going on a rampage shortly."

Xander shook his head. "Politicians." He said in disgust. "Useless, the lot of them."

"You can say that again." Sirius agreed.

"So, Hogwarts in the morning. A united front, I'm thinking." Xander said. That got nods from almost everyone except Spike.

"Just one problem with that, pet. Sunlight and vamps don't mix."

Xander grinned wickedly. He'd been looking forward to giving Willow's present to Spike. "Oh, did I forget to give you Willow's present?" He got up and hurried upstairs, then came back down. "Willow's been working on this since she found out about necro-tinting. Basically trying to do something like the Ring of Amarra minus the supervamp juiceup, and a bit harder to remove accidentally, since we get chopped up rather regularly."

He held the open box out to Spike, whose eyebrows were headed for his hairline. The slim box held a plain gold necklace, not quite a choker but close. With it going around Spike's neck, the only way to get it off was to either cut off Spike's head or somehow force the clasp open, which involved getting rather uncomfortably up close and personal with a vamp, since Willow had made sure no amount of mojo in the world would open the clasp. "It's been tested, and it works. You can walk around in the sun as long as you've got that on."

Having the vamp on their side of the fight able to not worry about getting dusty was definitely of the good. Also of the good was the ability to see Spike utterly gobsmacked. Xander had half expected to get friction burns Spike snatched the thing from his hands so fast, but it looked like Spike was rather a bit too stunned to do any snatching.

"Remind me to get something special for her Christmas pressie, right?" Spike finally said, and soon had it on. It was just as well it was already dark out, as Xander had a feeling Spike would have otherwise been hard put to not dash outside.

"Right. I'm thinking that's bedtime for most of us. Been a long day, and we have a lot to deal with come morning." Xander said.

Four rooms, five people. Might have been a problem, but after two years together in Africa, Xander and Spike were used to sharing a 'room' both for safety's sake and out of sheer necessity. So, it turned out, were Sirius and Remus. Evidently, they'd been staying together while Sirius was on the run after Harry's third year. They got it sorted pretty quickly (Sirius and Remus decided to room together) and everyone collapsed. Well, everyone but Spike, who kept an eye on things while everyone else slept.


	7. Clash of Titans

Clash of Titans

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 16, Hogwarts

The next morning saw what was possibly the strangest group ever approaching Hogsmeade on foot. Xander was in the lead, wearing a plain blue shirt, jeans, and a knee-length duster. The duster hid all his toys ... the harness that held his favorite axe to his back, the stake he carried out of pure habit, despite it being daylight and heading into an area he wouldn't need it, and several knives and daggers made of different materials for the critters that needed a particular material to get dead. He was hoping he didn't need any of it, but with Dumbledore being at the very least manipulative, he had decided to bring them along just in case.

Behind him and to his left, guarding his blind spot, was Spike in his usual black ensemble. Xander was just grateful they'd had a bit of a trip to get out here via car before walking, because it had taken Spike a good half hour to quit grinning like a loon at being able to be out in the sun. Remus was behind and to the right. Between them was Sirius in dog form and Harry, wearing the brown wig and concealer hiding his scar. Their positioning allowed Remus and Harry to keep a hand on both Xander and Spike without being obvious about it, as evidently such contact was required in order to get past the spells hiding Hogsmeade from the sight of muggles. Once they were actually in town, Remus and Sirius were able to drop their hands.

Evidently someone saw them coming, because they'd only just reached the outskirts of town when some really old guy walked out of one of the shops further down the street. Neither Xander nor the old guy noticed Harry moving directly behind Xander, though Spike, Remus and Sirius did.

"Xan, think he might be a relative?" Spike asked, his voice all too innocent.

"Fangless?" Xander half-asked, half-warned.

"Well, he is wearing the sorts of colors you used to sport in those bloody Hawaiian shirts you used to wear." Spike gave a wicked grin.

Sadly, Xander had to admit Spike had a point. The guy's dress, robe, whatever was a rather blinding shade of purple, with weird little gold and green designs that Xander couldn't make out at that distance that shimmered in the light.

"That's Dumbledore." Remus warned.

"Right. Manipulative and completely insane. Got it." Xander said with an irreverent grin.

He wasn't quite able to suppress the mental comparison to a Western showdown as he and his group approached Dumbledore. The Scoobies had learned the lesson Xander was about to employ the hard way. When dealing with an unknown but powerful person in an uncertain situation, you had to project an aura of invulnerability and strength yourself, or you were in major, major trouble. Acting awed or overwhelmed, even if that's how you truly felt, would get you stomped on as often as not.

"Remus. This is quite a surprise. Who are your friends?" Dumbledore asked when he got close enough, eyes twinkling.

"I think, Headmaster." There was more than a touch of a growl in Remus' voice. "That we should go somewhere a bit more private than the middle of town to talk."

"Yes, yes, of course. My office, perhaps?" Dumbledore made it sound a lot more like an order than a suggestion. For the moment, Xander kept his mouth shut, just following the colorblind old coot towards ... huh. Ruins? Nothing to see ... ooooooooooooohhhhh. Wait. Gotcha. Mojo. He couldn't see what was really there, of course, and had to fight the urge to turn and walk away to get back to HQ and deal with something he'd forgotten about, but just knowing a spell of some sort was involved helped immensely. Allowed him to keep going in the face of 'don't want to go there'.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, gentlemen." Dumbledore said, and as if that was the key (probably was) suddenly, Xander could see the castle, an immense and rather impressive structure that had his inner construction worker shrieking at the impossibility of some of the towers and added-on looking bits and bobs being at all stable, nevermind functional. The compulsion to go do something important elsewhere also disappeared.

A short walk, and they were inside. Xander couldn't help but gawk a bit, though he was careful not to let it show. Ok, a lot. Walking suits of armor, talking, moving portraits ... moving stairs. Definitely of the weird. They didn't get far, though, before a small, ugly little critter popped out of nowhere and leaped at Harry, and almost got itself skewered in the process, both by Spike and Xander. Only the fact the little guy backed off fast allowed Spike and Xander to realize that no one else seemed alarmed by the little guy's appearance and calm down.

"Harry Potter Sir! You has been missing all day and all night! Dobby has been looking for you everywhere and not finding you! Dobby is being so relieved that you is not hurt!" The little guy was literally in tears, evidently in relief, at seeing Harry safe, and was shifting from foot to foot like he wanted nothing more than to glomp Harry but was too leery of Spike and Xander to do it.

Harry solved his problem when he went down to one knee to hug the little ... thing, completely ignoring the rather startled-looking Dumbledore, who evidently hadn't seen Harry hiding behind Xander's bulk. Either that or hadn't recognized him.

"I'm all right, Dobby. I promise. I'm sorry I worried you." Harry told Dobby. He stayed down and wrapped an arm around Dobby's thin shoulders after he'd done hugging him.

"Friend of yours, I take it?" Xander asked. Harry had, of course, mentioned the little guy, but Xander was giving Harry the opportunity to introduce the little blighter properly.

"Yeah. This is Dobby. Dobby, this is Xander, and this is Spike." Harry said.

Dobby gave Spike a long, suspicious look, but evidently decided that the fact Spike wasn't overtly threatening Harry meant that Spike would be tolerated. "Dobby is being pleased to meet you, sirs." He offered, then his eyes went wide. "Dobby must go. He left dishes in the sink!" And poof, he was gone.

"Weird little guy." Xander said.

"You have no idea." Harry said, grinning as he got to his feet.

Xander just grinned at that, remembering some of the details that had come to light about Harry's second year when Remus had been explaining the chamber of secrets. "Oh, I think I can imagine."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I assume then, that you are the reason Harry was removed from his home?" He asked, now that the unexpected reunion was over with.

Xander eyed him. "Yeah, you can assume that. But somehow I don't think you want to have this conversation out here."

Dumbledore seemed to agree to that and led the way to his office. He crossed to the fireplace and tossed some floo powder in. "Severus, if you would come through please." He called.

Xander took mental note of the thing with the fire, but got a bit sidetracked by Fawkes. There was something to be said for seeing a phoenix for the first time. The roar behind him had him swinging around, though, in time to see ... well damn. Looked like Harry hadn't been kidding. Tall, dark, and greasy. Looked like he'd sucked on a weeks-old lemon. Had a rather nasty glare on him, too, but Xander was not at all impressed. He'd seen much, much worse than anything this guy could produce.

Sirius shifted to human form, glowering at Snape, who gave a disgusted sneer before standing to one side of Dumbledore's desk and crossing his arms over his chest.

Xander decided to get the introductions over with. "I'm Xander Harris of the Watcher's Council." He said, using the old name these people would be more likely to know. "This is Spike, also known as William the Bloody of the Aurelius clan. A month or so ago, our coven of earth witches caught wind of a rather nasty ritual being performed, and investigated, which led us to Harry here, and a whole lot of rather interesting information."

"The Watcher's Council has no power here, young man, except for if a girl is born a Potential. This is well outside your authority." Dumbledore said.

"Actually, that's not entirely correct." Xander said with a grin. "While we can, yes, intervene in the case of the discovery of a Potential, we also have the ability to intervene in cases of threats to the continuance of humankind, which Voldemort qualifies for, because if you think that crazy bastard is going to stop with Magical Britain, you're stupider than I gave you credit for being." He eyed both men. "We're also more concerned with kicking evil's ass than we are with ... " Xander gave a nasty smile. "Controlling weapons. With us, Harry will actually get trained, a concept that seems to have escaped you."

"Regardless your intentions, I'm afraid you've put Harry in rather grave danger." Dumbledore said.

"Right. Nobody could find him all day and night, we offer to teach him how to fight, but we're putting him in danger." Xander scoffed.

That got a sneer from Snape. "Muggles teaching wizards? What? How to die all the quicker?" He asked in a disgusted tone.

Xander didn't say a word in his own defense, just gave Snape a pitying look. "As if I'd tell you. You'd go tell your real master all about it." He was dancing a fine line, taunting the man, but he needed to know exactly where the bastard stood, sooner rather than much too late.

Snape bristled and his glare upped its wattage an order of magnitude, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore intervened, making a soothing/restraining gesture at Snape.

"I have every confidence in Professor Snape." Dumbledore said, then twinkled at Xander as if that settled the matter.

"You know. I really don't like spies." Xander said in a bland, conversational tone while staring Snape down. "You never can tell who they're really working for. And him doing nothing put pissing all over Harry from the word go really doesn't help his case."

"Potter has enough sycophants. I suppose you would have me kissing his feet as well?" Snape sneered.

Xander rolled his eye. "Sycophants my ass. And it's not like Volemort was around for you to play spy with his first year. And I didn't say you had to kiss his feet. I guess treating him like a human being is beyond your capabilities."

"That did not mean his followers would not have been watching." Snape snapped, lip curling at Xander's last comment.

"Ahhh. His followers. Like you, you mean?" Xander taunted again, subtly bracing himself. From the look of him, Snape was about ten seconds from doing something rash. Xander was almost looking forward to it.

"Please, gentlemen." Dumbledore made another soothing gesture. Snape almost instantly backed down, though he was still giving Xander a death glare.

Xander let it go for the moment. He really didn't like spies, no three ways about it, but, weirdly, he was getting the feeling that despite the hair-trigger temper Snape was NOT a true Voldie-follower. A first-rate asshole and a menace, yes. Outright evil, not so much. It would do for now. "As I was saying. We've offered to teach him. And you couldn't find him. Yet, somehow, we put him in danger?"

"I am afraid that only Number Four Privet Drive is truly safe for Harry." Dumbledore said.

Xander stared at the man. "You're telling me that there is absolutely NO other way to keep Harry safe from this loser that's hunting him except to lock him up with people that hate him? Really?" He shook his head and made a show of looking over at Spike. "Well, guess that tells us just how pathetic wand magic is, hey Spike?"

"No shit, Xan." Spike said, immediately picking up on what Xander was doing. "Red'd work it so the kid could walk up to the poufter and he wouldn't be able to do a thing to him." Spike grinned. "Or hell, just put the kid in with the girls. They'd bloody well eviscerate anyone that tried anything funny." The girls being the young Slayers, Spike SO was not kidding.

"I would not expect a muggle to understand ... " Dumbledore started, looking thoroughly put out at Xander's calculated insult.

"Try me. I've been around magic pretty much all my life." Xander said with a malicious grin.

"When the Potters were attacked, Lily sacrificed herself to save Harry. This ... imbued Harry with a powerful protection. But to take advantage of it, he has to stay with blood kin." Dumbledore started to explain.

Whatever reaction Dumbledore had been expecting, he didn't get it. All four adults reacted exceedingly negatively to that little revelation, Spike snarled and took a fast step towards the old man. Only Xander's instinctive grab for Spike's duster hauling him up short, and only Spike's trust in Xander kept Spike from pulling free of Xander's grip and going for Dumbledore's throat anyway. Sirius had to grab Remus, who'd gone gold-eyed and snarling. Not that Xander and Sirius were much better than their counterparts. Xander was so pissed he could barely see straight, and if the expression on Sirius' face was anything to go by, he was seriously contemplating murder. Snape, looking pissed as hell, pulled his wand ... though whether to hex them or Dumbledore, Xander wasn't sure. The action got Spike's attention, and he lunged at the man, flashing into gameface and snapping his teeth in Snape's face, while rather contemptuously swatting his wand away.

"You used blood wards?" Sirius sounded like he was somewhere between panic and blinding fury.

"You really are hopelessly stupid." Xander snapped. "Blood-based magic, I don't care what the fuck it is, is dangerous as all hell. Even used with benign intent it can seriously fuck up. Stupid fuck. Christ. You really are intent on playing with people's lives, aren't you?" He dug into a pocket for his cellphone and dialed, which had Dumbledore and Snape's eyebrows going through the roof.

"Willow? Yeah. Meet us at the cottage in about an hour and a half? These morons used blood magic on the kid." He winced and pulled the phone away from his ear. Willow's rather strident tones were clearly audible to everyone, though probably only Spike and Remus could hear the words she was saying. "Wills! A bit less volume, please?" She wound down a bit and Xander replaced the phone by his ear. After a few moments, he nodded and spoke again. "Right. See you then. Still have a few home truths to pound into heads here." And he snapped the phone closed.

Both Dumbledore and Snape looked like they very much wanted to ask how in the name of everything Xander managed to get a bit of muggle technology to work at Hogwarts, but Xander wasn't about to let them ask. "Right. So. Where were we. We've covered the moronic concept of blood-based magic. Now, we're going to cover just why it was you thought it would be a good idea for Harry to grow up completely ignorant of everything related to magic, seeing as how, according to you and your precious prophecy, he's kind of important."

Dumbledore's eyes went huge, And Snape looked nearly apoplectic. "How do you know about that?" Dumbledore demanded.

There was an odd sense of pressure in Xander's head, and then, abruptly, the hair-raising, high-pitched cackling whoop of the hyena. Dumbledore jerked back violently, and in the space of a heartbeat, Xander's air of approachable, calm control disappeared, replaced by a bristling, hard-eyed, grim-faced warrior.

"I'd stay out of my head if I were you old man. It's not a safe place to be." Xander's tone was low, quiet, and utterly deadly.

It was times like this that Xander was actually glad he'd gotten possessed. Soldier had been, and remained, a highly-prized resource. Xander had lost count of the times he'd tapped into the soldier's knowledge, though the personality that had gone along with it had faded within days. Most of the skills had disappeared as well, except for the stuff relating to explosives and how to fire various weapons, skills he'd tapped into before the skills that had accompanied the possession had faded out on him. He'd tapped into the soldier's knowledge so often, though, that it had never actually faded out, remaining tucked away in the back of Xander's mind.

The hyena had, originally, seemed to disappear as well, though an appetite for raw/rare meat and an urge to hunt had lingered for a couple weeks. Over time, Xander had assumed it had disappeared entirely. Going to Africa, though, had woken some scrap that hadn't been yanked out when Giles exorcised it. The preference for raw or rare meat had returned, and remained to this day, and the fragment of the hyena seemed to have taken a rather proprietary interest in Xander's headspace since it woke up. The couple of times someone tried to mess with his head directly since then had got the same response as Dumbledore had been subjected to.

The one shaman he'd gone to to see if the bit could be got rid of entirely said the cackle was accompanied by a visual of a mouthful of teeth snapping shut in his face. He'd not been too keen on the idea of testing to see if the hyena would actually 'bite' mentally, and Xander hadn't blamed him. The bad guys hadn't been too interested in risking it either. Thankfully, that seemed to be the extent of the hyena's influence.

"How we know is none of your business." Xander informed Dumbledore in a hard voice. "That we do know is all that you need to know. What I want to know is why you've not even begun to attempt to teach Harry anything. Why you kept him wholly ignorant of the wizarding world for the first eleven years of his life. I want to know what possible justification you have, when you presumed that Harry was vital to the peace and prosperity of your world."

Dumbledore hemmed and hawed a bit, but finally said. "His name is famous in our world. Had he stayed, he would have been too tempting a target for some of Voldemort's followers, and growing up surrounded by all that fame would have turned his head."

Xander blinked, the warrior impression receding quite a bit. He looked over at Spike. "Can you believe this shit?"

"Not really, pet." Spike said, eyeballing Dumbledore. "There's ways ta let the bit know about mojo without him growing up around wankers that want to kidnap him, you plonker." He pointed out. Dumbledore looked like Spike's pejoratives had gone flying well over his head.

"And I find the fact that you're so absolutely sure he'd have become an arrogant ass rather interesting. I'm quite sure that's what you would have done if you had grown up famous, and probably him as well." Xander motioned towards Snape. "But that does not mean that everyone would."

Xander sighed. "You really need to get your head out of your ass, both of you. Harry is no longer your concern. Sirius is, evidently, despite being a wanted ... well, wanted, since he's innocent ... still Harry's godfather, which has been explained carries a shitload more weight in your world than in mine. Which means that he gets to make the calls where Harry is concerned. Up to now he couldn't, but now he's got backup, so what he wants goes, and he's made it real clear he doesn't want Harry under your control." He glared at Dumbledore.

"Given that you sat on your ass and left him to rot in jail without a trial, I really don't blame him." Xander shook his head. "You've done this to yourself, Dumbledore. At this point, your choices are now to either hire myself and Spike as staff for the school ... or never seeing Harry again, since I'm quite sure there are other magic schools that would be thrilled to have him." Xander was pretty darn sure which choice Dumbledore would go for. He would NOT want his weapon at another school, no matter what. "C'mon guys. Let's get out of here. We have better things to do."

And, with Spike guarding the rear, they turned and walked out. They were met near the door by Dobby. He was wringing his hands and his long, Yoda-ish ears were drooping.

Harry walked over to him. "Dobby, what is it?"

Dobby looked up at him with big, wounded eyes. "Harry Potter sir is going away again. He is going someplace that Dobby can't find." He squirmed and wrung his hands, then reached up to give an ear a vicious twist that had Xander wincing and Harry gently grabbing the offending hand to stop him.

"Dobby?"

"Dobby is ... Dobby would ... Dobby cannot ask ... "

It made no sense at all to Xander, but weirdly, Harry seemed to get it. "You want to go with me." Harry guessed.

Dobby nodded his head so hard it threatened to come off his neck.

Harry glanced over at Xander and Spike.

"Your call, Harry. You know him better than we do." Xander told him.

Harry looked down at Dobby. "Dobby, if you come with me, you can never, ever tell anyone where we're at unless I give you specific permission, ok? There's a lot of people who want to hurt me, and I need to stay safe."

Clearly, Dobby agreed with this wholeheartedly, because he was nodding fit to knock his head off again. "Dobby will keep the Great Harry Potter's secrets. Dobby will tell no one! Dobby promises!"

"Welcome to the group, then, little guy." Xander told him. "Let's get out of here. We've got a date with Willow."


	8. Willow Magic

Willow Magic

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 16, The Cottage

They just barely made it back to the cottage before Willow appeared with a flash of light and a blast of air. She was carrying a large duffel bag, and beside her was a positively ancient woman, bent and frail and wrinkled but with clear, keen brown eyes.

"Xander!" Willow shrieked, and Xander barely had time to open his arms before he got half-strangled by a Willow-hug. "Ohmygosh. I totally can't believe they used blood magic. That's completely oogy. And really really stupid. I didn't know what we'd need so I brought pretty much everything, and we should check everything Harry has, and his aunt's house and I brought Agnes in case we came across something I didn't know how to fix yet and what were they thinking?"

Spike smirked over at Remus, Sirius, and Harry, who were all staring at Willow like she was some very strange sort of creature they'd never seen before. Dobby had moves so that he was standing very close to Harry, and was eyeing the newcomers as suspiciously as he'd eyed Xander and Spike.

"Is she a vampire too, so she doesn't actually need to breathe to talk?" Harry wanted to know, which had Willow blushing and Xander and Spike both laughing.

"That, Harry, is Willow-babble. How she manages it, the world may never know." Xander said with a grin.

"Oi, you're as bad, Xan. Two of you are a right pair when you get going." Spike pointed out.

"So how do you want to do this, Willow, Agnes? This is your show." Xander asked, wordlessly flipping Spike off for his comment.

"We should perhaps start with the house and his relatives, since the spell was anchored there." Agnes said, her voice surprisingly clear and strong for her frail appearance.

"Right. Can you teleport all of us, or is that too many?" Xander asked. The teleport bubbles only got so big when the spell was done by one person, no matter how strong they were.

"Better do it in two groups." Willow said. "I don't think there's too many of us, but better safe than sorry."

"Hmmm, ok ... Harry, you, Sirius and Remus together." Xander said, well aware that neither Sirius nor Remus would be ok with Harry going without them. "Dobby can come with me and Spike."

"Dobby is being able to get there on his own, sirs. He knows the way." Dobby reminded him.

"Oh! Right, I forgot. You've been to Harry's house before. That makes that easier. Meet you there then, little guy." Xander said.

Dobby nodded and disappeared with a pop. Willow took the three Wizards on the first run, then came back and gathered up Xander, Spike, Agnes and their bag of goodies for the second.

Two seconds on that street and Xander was grimacing. After a lifetime on the Hellmouth, he'd developed a bit of a radar for all things twisted and wrong. It wasn't anywhere near as strong or specific as Slayer radar, but it was enough to let him know when something bad was in the vicinity. And it was squawking at him now, just like it had been a few days ago when they'd first rescued Harry. At least now he knew why.

"Right. Any and all chance that the spell didn't get twisted just got shot down the drain." Xander grumped, not that the comment was really necessary.

"You're telling me, Shaggy." Spike's expression was rather twisted, like he was fighting going into gameface. His 'mojo radar' was, if anything, better than Xander's. Willow looked even less pleased.

"Oh, this is bad. This is really, really, really bad." She shivered. "It's all twisted and black and slimy and nasty and just plain evil."

Xander walked over and gripped her shoulder. "You ok?"

She bit at her lip for a moment, then slowly relaxed. "Yeah, it's just really of the bad, you know?"

Xander gave her a gentle smile. "Yeah, I know. I can feel it a bit. Probably not like you can, but enough." She'd never really forgiven herself for Darth Willow, and this sort of twisted magic was bound to remind her of that. "So let's get rid of it, yeah?"

She gave a determined nod. "Yeah. I just need to find the focal point."

"Right. Remus, Spike, you two are on anti-Dursley detail. Spike, you are not allowed to scar them for life."

"Bloody hell, mate. Take all the fun out of it, why don't you?" Spike whined, even as he headed towards the door. He didn't have an invitation, yet, but it ought not to be too hard to get one, and even if he didn't, he could keep their attention at the front door easily enough.

Xander, Harry, and dog-Sirius stood watch over Willow and Agnes as they prowled the property. There was a lot of quiet chatter between them, and then Willow dug into the duffel. Xander watched as she dug out some clear crystals, each nearly a foot long and a couple inches thick, and placed them around the perimeter of the property. They all ignored the outraged yelling from the house, at least until Willow and Agnes headed inside, at which point Xander tuned in, just in case.

To his relief, it pretty much amounted to 'you freaks, get out of my house'. And evidently Spike had gotten the invite he needed because he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Remus, cornering the Dursleys in their living room, expression maliciously gleeful as he traded insults and bluster. Sirius wandered over to help antagonize the trio, leaving Harry, Xander and Willow in the hallway with Agnes at the door but not actually inside.

Willow started towards the kitchen, but never actually made it that far. She got about five feet from a certain cupboard and gave a little 'eep' before actually backing into Xander. Xander gripped her shoulder again. "I gotcha, Wills."

She took another deep breath. "Yeah, that's the focal point. But why a cupboard?" She muttered. Xander had no intention, ever, of telling her Harry had actually lived there. He really didn't want to find out what she'd do to the Dursleys. Willow started chanting quietly in a language Xander didn't recognize, her hands moving in patterns.

Talk died down as malignant, oily black trails started appearing, visible to everyone if the gasps of surprise and horror were any indication. They spiderwebbed all over the house, and snaked out into the yard before forming a very freaky net-like dome over the house and property that Xander could see through a window. Some of the tendrils wrapped around the Dursleys. Petunia was wholly cloaked in black, like a bizarre, malevolent burkha. Vernon's wasn't as thick, either because he was not related by blood, or, Xander's private guess, he was naturally more nasty anyway. Dudley was ... interesting. Unlike his parents, the strands wrapping about him weren't pure black. There were two or three palm-sized places that were a dark gray, like something had worn away at those spots. Xander was faintly surprised the Dursleys weren't spazzing out, but then decided Willow must have done something to get them to hold still and shut up. And at the center of that awful web was the cupboard under the stairs, a massive, pulsing, oily, loathsome red-shot knot of ill intent.

Willow took a step forward, and Xander let her go. The chant got a bit quicker, her tone more determined and louder. Her hair started moving in a nonexistent breeze, and as she poured more and more power into her own spell, her hair leeched to white.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the spiderwebbing began to fade to gray, then to white, the furthest tendrils first, shrinking into invisibility as the web shrank. The Dursleys slowly became more visible through the strands wrapped around them. But the center knot lingered for quite a bit, until it too finally began to fade, and then disappeared. Willow slowed the chant and gradually the color returned to her hair. Xander grabbed her the second she started to wobble.

"Ugh. That was definitely nasty." She said, sounding a bit tired. Not that Xander blamed her.

"Could you tell what all it was doing?" Xander wanted to know. "You going to be ok?"

Willow gave him a grin. "A quick nap and a snack and I'll be fine. That spell was really strong."

Xander kept Willow tucked under his arm as he turned to check on everyone else. Vernon had gone a rather interesting shade of purple not normally found in nature, mouth flapping like a landed fish, strangled, incoherent noises escaping him. Petunia had gone the opposite route, and was now milk-white, pinch-faced and also, thank god, silent. Dudley appeared to have fainted. Remus and Sirius seemed to be torn between staring at Willow in openmouthed shock and utter horror at what they'd seen. Harry was nearly as stunned, but Xander had a feeling that having hung around with his version of Willow the last few years had accustomed him to scary-powerful witches, at least a little bit.

"What did she ... how did ... what WAS that?" Sirius finally managed to ask.

"That would be earth magic, as wielded by a really powerful practitioner." Xander said. "C'mon, let's get out of here before someone else shows up." He'd bet dollars to donuts that Dumbledore had some sort of alert attached to those wards or the house or something, and any alteration of the wards would have him here in a hurry.

Willow teleported them back to the cottage, and it wasn't until they'd all collapsed on the couches that Xander realized they'd seen neither hide nor hair of Dobby at the Dursley's. "Hey, where'd Dobby get to?" He asked.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Dobby!" He called as he headed for the kitchen and food. Dobby popped in, his buggy eyes even wider than before and giving Willow a wide berth. He had a pillowcase in his hands that, from the look of it, had some stuff in it. "Dobby?"

"Dobby is going to the bad house, Harry Potter sir. He is picking up Harry Potter sir's things that he left behind." Dobby offered the pillowcase.

From Harry's expression, he couldn't figure out what he'd left behind, but he took the pillowcase anyway, and glanced inside. "Oh! My old toys. Thanks, Dobby."

That made Dobby grin fit to split his head in half. "Is the sirs and misses hungry? Dobby is fixing them something to eat!" But then he turned towards Spike, shaking one long, skinny finger. "Excepting Spike sir. Dobby is not bringing him foods, he is not! Dobby is a free elf and does not have to do bad things!"

Xander snorted. "It's ok, Dobby. Spike doesn't hunt people. We've got packets of blood for him in the refrigerator." He pointed to the fridge, just in case the little guy didn't know what it was. "But you don't have to cook for us if you don't want to."

Dobby looked immensely relieved that. "Dobby is happy to help."

That seemed to settle that, as the little guy started hustling around to make a meal. They all decided to retreat to the main room in the face of all the activity.

"I just don't understand. I mean, why was the house all black like that?" Harry wanted to know.

"Blood magic, Harry." Agnes explained, before anyone else could get there. "There is an enormous amount of power in blood, no matter whose it is. The problem is, it can really only be used in dark spells. Dark spells feed, pretty much exclusively, on violence and pain and fear and hate, whether it's your brand of magic or mine. It's literally impossible to shed blood without at least a minimal amount of violence. A long time ago, magical people experimented, trying to use blood magic in ways that were neutral or benevolent in intent. Some of the ways even seemed to work, at least for a while. But sooner or later, something always went wrong somewhere. I imagine the same is true in your world."

Remus and Sirius both nodded in agreement. "Why Dumbledore risked a blood ward, we'll probably never know." Sirius said. "It was bloody well stupid. Maybe if he'd used a drop of blood he'd got from a pinprick on a newborn babe, things would have been fairly stable and ok for a while, but your mom and dad were killed in cold blood. That's pretty much as violent as you can get, short of them being tortured to death. Dumbledore's intent may have been pure and good, but the dark taint would have taken that intent and twisted it every which way."

Remus sighed. "You and the Dursleys never stood a chance. I don't think they'd ever have loved you and treated you equal to Dudley ... Lily spoke too much of how bitter and angry Petunia was about Lily being a witch ... but it wouldn't have been as bad. And that's why Quirrel hurt you so badly. That was the sort of twist that was common to the wards and spells they experimented with before blood magic was consigned to the Dark Arts. You were protected from Quirrel, but that protection hurt you, badly. And it probably twisted a number of other things along the way. That ward's had thirteen years to twist and warp away from its original purpose."

Xander, Willow and Spike could only nod solemnly in agreement. Xander was fairly sure Willow was flashing back to them resurrecting Buffy. God knew he was right now. Blood magic ... definitely of the bad.

Harry made a grim face. "That ... kind of explains a lot of things." He said. Like why no one listened the few times he'd tried to speak up about the abuse. The ever-worsening treatment he'd gotten at the Dursley's hands.

Talk faded for a little bit, then Dobby came out. "Lunch is being ready, sirs and miss." He told them. They all trooped into the kitchen to eat. Dobby had even heated up a packet of blood for Spike.

July 16, Hogwarts

Dumbledore watched the strangers walk out with Harry and fought a frown. This was not good. This was not good at all. "Thoughts, Severus?"

"The muggle is more than he appears to be." Severus said in a pained voice, as if admitting such a thing hurt. "I have not yet heard of a muggle that could keep a wizard out of their mind."

"Indeed. Though, if he does indeed work for the Watchers, their access to certain magics might explain his mental protections." Dumbledore mused.

"Really, Headmaster. Muggles wielding magic?"

"There is more than one breed of magic, Severus. We must ascertain whether young Mr. Harris spoke the truth in regards to his employment ... and the fate of the Watchers."

"Who are the Watchers?" Severus wanted to know, sounding sour about not knowing something.

"An organization that deals with defeating the Dark Arts and dark creatures of all sorts." Dumbledore supplied. "The knowledge of their existence and purpose is not widely known in our world." Dumbledore sighed. "Severus, I would like for you to attempt to find out everything you can about them. I will speak to the school board and arrange for both Mr. Harris and ... Spike ... to assist with teaching classes."

"A vampire in the castle? Have you run mad, Dumbledore? He'll have the students drained inside of a week!" Snape's voice came remarkably close to being a shriek.

"This Spike is ... rather unique. When was the last time you saw a vampire walk under the sun, Severus? And there have been rumors over the years of a vampire who retained a soul."

"Preposterous. Impossible. Vampires are, by definition, soulless monsters." Snape snarled.

"And yet, one walked among us, in daylight, and did not attempt to kill or feed. I find that most curious, don't you?" Dumbledore asked.

"He was wearing a collar. Clearly that controlled him." Snape stated, waving a hand in dismissal of the entire concept of a souled vampire. "So you are going to accede to that boy's demands?"

"As you mentioned, young Mr. Harris is more than he appears to be. Whatever he may prove to be, I have little doubt he will at least attempt to keep his word, and to wrest Harry away from him by force would further alienate Harry."

"And the Potter whelp must be placated at all costs, clearly." Snape sneered.

"Severus, he is all that stands between our world and destruction. I would rather have him on our side, wouldn't you?"

Snape subsided, muttering under his breath.

Dumbledore got to his feet and headed for the fireplace, intending to make some calls. He'd just grabbed some floo powder when, behind him, three of the silver doodads that decorated his office suddenly started to whirl faster and emit a high-pitched whine. The smoke rising from them increased almost exponentially and turned a viscous black. Dumbledore whipped around, eyes wide, then very quickly put the pot of floo powder down and sent off a hurried patronus-message to the nearest Order members.

"Headmaster?" Severus asked.

"Those three items are linked to the wards around Privet Drive." Dumbledore's voice was grave and worried, even as he started for the door.

Moments after the two men hurried out, the three doodads exploded, raining shrapnel everywhere. Over the next few hours, while Dumbledore was busy elsewhere trying to find answers, quite a few more ceased to function.

July 16, The Cottage

Unaware of the chaos breaking the wards on Privet Drive was causing, everyone convened again two hours after lunch, having given Willow time to catch a quick nap.

"This ought to be not problem at all." Willow told Harry. "Breaking up that awful spell should have dealt with everything, but we want to be sure, you know? Better safe than sorry."

She started to chant, and almost immediately frowned. So did pretty much everyone else, as they got to see what Willow saw. Harry was still surrounded by a grey-tinted haze. There was a knot of very dark gray, almost black, surrounding his right arm and the wound Pettigrew had inflicted.

But as the effect of the spell worked its way up Harry's body, everyone except Spike (and Willow, who was focused on chanting) recoiled. A writhing, twisting knot of oily black, blood red and acid, poisonous green was centered under Harry's scar and obscuring half his face.

"What in the name of hell is THAT?" Xander demanded.

Agnes looked both intrigued and horrified. "I do not know. I have never seen the like. Gentlemen, do either of you recognize this?"

From the horrified and dismayed but very confused expressions on both Remus and Sirius' faces, the answer was a big fat no.

"Willow, can you get rid of it?" Xander asked.

Willow let the chant fade. As the colors disappeared, she nibbled her lip, then held a low-voiced conference with Agnes before turning back to Xander and the others. "I probably definitely could. But it's sorta attached to him, and I'd wanna do some research before trying it. I don't want to hurt him."

Harry, looking more than a bit wigged, nodded at her. "Yeah, not getting hurt's good. But the sooner you can get rid of that ... " He gave a convulsive shudder. "The better. Gah." One hand came up as if to rub at the scar before aborting and switching to rubbing at his pants leg like he was trying to clean his hand off. He shuddered again.

"In the meantime, I can clear off the rest of it easily enough." Willow said, her tone brightening. "And I think ... " She dove into the duffel bag for a few moments, and eventually pulled back, clutching something triumphantly. "Hah! Yes, I knew we'd brought one. Once I clear off the gunk other than ... " She gestured at her own head. "You need to wear this. It'll keep the oogies from spreading again." In her hand was a simple necklace with crystals like the ones she'd used at Privet Drive, just much smaller. There were thirty or so crytstals on the necklace, no larger than a fingernail each.

Everyone resettled and Willow started chanting again. This time, unlike at the house, her hair never so much as stirred, nevermind going white. Soon enough, the gray haze and the taint from the ritual were gone. The malevolent knot under Harry's scar was wholly untouched, but hopefully, the necklace would help keep Harry clear of nasty influence. Or, as clear as was possible, given the situation.

"So now what?" Spike wanted to know.

Sirius sighed. "Now, we resort to our magic. I think we should go through everything of Harry's. I'd be willing to bet good money Dumbledore has tracking spells on something, at the very least."

Xander could believe that.

By the time Sirius and Remus had undone all the tracking spells, pretty much the only calm person in the cottage was Agnes. There'd been spells on Harry's trunk, his bookbag, his father's invisibility cloak and his Firebolt. Even on Hedwig, when they brought her in to check her over. Sirius and Remus were apoplectic, Harry looked like he'd taken a mortal wound, and Xander, for the moment, was a bit too distracted keeping Willow from going and spanking Dumbledore, possibly very literally, to give vent to his own outrage.

Dobby, apparently, had no such problems. He'd evidently not quite put all the pieces together at Privet Drive, but he'd drawn the picture now. Xander made a mental note to never piss the little guy off, because as happy and easygoing as he'd seemed earlier, he was now wearing the sort of expression Buffy generally got on her face after something had hurt him or Willow and before she really put the hurt on.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is a bad Master he is! He is hurting Harry Potter sir! He is not to be doing that and Dobby is telling him so!" And before any of them could stop him (not that any of them were actually inclined to do so) he popped out.

"I almost pity Dumbledore." Harry said, looking to be torn between amusement and outrage. "Dobby blasted Lucius Malfoy a good thirty feet when he only tried to hurt me. I'm almost afraid to find out what Dobby's got planned for Dumbledore."

Willow's expression was still mutinous. "Xander, you be careful around him, you hear me?" She commanded. "He's done some awful things to Harry and I sincerely doubt he'll spare a moment's thought to doing worse to you." Unsaid went the knowledge that if Dumbledore did something that stupid, all hell would break loose. Even taking Willow out of the equation ... yeah. Buffy would NOT be a happy camper. At all.

"Trust me, Wills, I don't trust that old goat as far as I can throw him." Xander reassured her.


	9. Scoldings, Discoveries, and Reminisces

Scoldings, Discoveries, and Reminisces

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 16, Hogwarts

Dumbledore was more than slightly tired by the time he finally returned to his office that evening. He'd spent the better part of the afternoon questioning (and then obliviating) the Dursleys, misdirecting and placating the Ministry, and trying to figure out just who this Xander Harris and Spike were. Snape had been working the latter problem from his own angle. Dumbledore would be interested to see what Snape had discovered when he returned. For himself, he'd discovered very little. This young man seemed to be wholly unknown to Dumbledore's usual sources of information, though that was not all that surprising, given that his sources were all based in the wizarding world. The only thing he'd been able to confirm (after an attempted floo call and a quick trip when the floo call failed) was that the old Watcher's Headquarters had, indeed, been quite thoroughly destroyed, though by who or what was impossible to tell. It was clear that the damage had been done at least a few years earlier. Where the Watchers, if any remained, were headquartered now, no one seemed to know.

Dumbledore sighed as he settled into his chair. After a few moments, he decided to call for some tea as a pick-me-up. "Teasle!" He called.

It wasn't Teasle who popped into the office at his call. It was a very, very angry looking Dobby.

Dumbledore was ... slightly worried. House elves possessed a great deal of magical strength. Strength which was, normally, yoked to their masters' will, their enslavement leaving them incapable of retaliating directly against ill treatment. Those few who were freed normally (like Winky) reacted very badly, and if they were not re-enslaved, eventually died because they fell into despair and stopped taking care of themselves. Some outright committed suicide rather than live free.

Dobby, though, was altogether unique. It was not unknown for house elves to be ... clever and selective in their obedience to commands when suffering under a harsh master, but for an elf to act overtly in an attempt to thwart their master's activities was unheard of. To have the degree of loyalty to someone not their master that Dobby displayed towards Harry was even more so. That Dobby had done both ... and then attacked his ex-Master mere moments after being freed in the defense of Harry, boggled the mind. That Harry, and those around him, perceived Dumbledore as having acted against Harry's best interests had doubtlessly roused the loyal little elf's ire. How Dobby would express that displeasure, though, was what was giving Dumbledore pause.

"Headmaster Dumbledore sir is being a bad, bad wizard! He is hurting the great Harry Potter sir! He is hurting Harry Potter sir's family! He is sneaking and watching Harry Potter sir! He is even using bad magic! Dobby is thinking Dumbledore sir is being like his old master! Dobby would not let his old master harm Harry Potter and he will not let Dumbledore sir harm Harry Potter sir! Dobby is not working for Dumbledore sir anymore, ever!" Dobby was all but hopping in his outrage, ears flapping madly, one finger alternating between shaking and pointing at Dumbledore. "Dobby is thinking that he is making Dumbledore sir very sorry for hurting Harry Potter sir!" With one last shake of a finger, Dobby popped out. With him went every source of light other than what came through the windows, and considering it was after dark, that meant no light at all.

Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief. At least Dobby hadn't tossed him across the room. Time to see what he'd done. "Lumos." He gaped. The office had been stripped of everything that wasn't nailed down. The telescope, the table of knickknacks, all his books, everything. The only things remaining were his desk and chair ... and the Headmaster portraits. And not a one of the Headmasters was in their portrait. The walls and floor were now matte black, transforming what had been a bright, airy place into something as close to a dungeon as was possible.

The next two hours were nothing but utter frustration, and a rather pointed lesson in just how inconvenient and uncomfortable life could get when one had a seriously angry, free house-elf to deal with. Candles and sconces brought into his office either by hand from elsewhere in the castle or via magic disappeared the moment his back was turned. Worse, while he'd been obtaining replacements, his desk and chair had been replaced. In its place was a small, plain desk and a straight-backed, rather hard-seated student's chair. All attempts to get his regular desk and chair back failed spectacularly, and the more comfortable chair he tried to transfigure the student chair into disappeared within moments, same as everything else. It actually took him nearly a half hour to realize it wasn't just his office that had been affected. Dobby had even changed his robes. They were now as plain and black as what Snape usually wore. Worse, when, exasperated and exhausted, he called for Teasle again, the elf was quite slow in responding, and his request for tea found him supplied with plain, cold tea in a dirty cup. Clearly, Dobby had informed the Hogwarts elves of his actions and they were registering their disapproval in one of the few ways open to them.

That two hours also let him think a bit, while he tried to restore some semblance of order to his office. Bad magic, Dobby had called it. And accused him, point blank, of being like Lucius Malfoy, a person Dumbledore was not best pleased to be compared to like that. Dumbledore was man enough to admit the blood wards had possessed an element of risk, but they should have remained stable long enough to do the job they were needed to do. Harry's infant innocence and Lily's willingness to sacrifice herself for her son ought to have balanced the dangers inherent in blood magic. Could he perhaps have been wrong? Erred in his calculations? Surely there would have been some sort of overt sign the wards were twisting?

With a frown, Dumbledore headed to his rooms, which, he noted with a sigh, seemed to have suffered the same fate as his office. His rooms had been completely stripped, save for three books on blood wards that he owned, which were sitting, rather pointedly, in the middle of his sitting room floor. He picked them up and then headed back to his office. A bit of time with the pensieve and a lot of reading by lumos later found Dumbledore staring down at the notes he'd made.

"Merlin."

There was no way, now, to be sure, since the wards had been taken down, but it was slowly becoming apparent that he had, in fact, miscalculated. Either that or the wards had warped at an increased rate for reasons unknown. And what effect that would have had, Dumbledore honestly didn't know, but if Dobby's rant was anything to go by, something had, indeed, happened.

"Dobby?"

Nothing.

"Dobby?"

A long hesitation, and Dobby finally popped into the office, arms folded across his chest and a rather impressive scowl on his face. "What is bad Dumbledore sir wanting?" He wanted to know.

"To explain." Dumbledore said. "I never meant to hurt Harry. When I put those wards up, I was trying to protect him. Risky as they were, blood wards were the only thing strong enough to keep bad people ... like your old master and his friends ... away from Harry." The Fidelius had proven to be disastrously breakable, and Harry was to risk him with a less than comprehensive set of protections.

Dobby seemed to consider this for a long time. "Yous is not using bad magics on Harry Potter sir anymore!" He demanded. "You is not being a sneaky, bad wizard no more."

Considering the fact that he'd probably not see Harry until school began, that would not be a hard thing to do. "No more bad magic. You have my word."

Dobby gave a sharp nod, and cracked out ... and within seconds, his office was returned to normal, as were his robes. Dumbledore settled back in his chair with a sigh of relief.

"It would seem, Harry, that you have rather more champions than you realize." He said softly. "If, that is, this Xander Harris is whom he claims to be."

That was not the only worrying point. How to ... encourage Harry to trust him once more was a thorny problem. There was too much Harry did not know, that he needed guidance with. And even if this Xander Harris proved to be from the Watchers, Dumbledore sincerely doubted that the sort of training they gave Slayers had any relevance for Harry. Voldemort was, after all, neither vampire nor demon. He was a wizard. Twisted almost beyond recognition, but a wizard nonetheless.

It was very nearly dawn before Snape returned, rousing Dumbledore from his further research into what could have gone wrong with the wards at Privet Drive and the resulting ruminations. He swept in with more than his usual energy, despite the hour and a complete lack of sleep, agitated and angry.

"I take it you were able to obtain some information?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape sneered. "Only after I'd exhausted nearly all my usual resources. It wasn't until I contacted one of my usual suppliers." For potion ingredients, he meant. "That I found anyone that knew of this whelp. The fool went as white as chalk. I was summarily told to let the boy do as he pleased. My supplier said the boy had a reputation among those that hunted for magical animals. They call him the White Knight. I was duly informed that while the boy himself is a more than capable fighter, to harm him would bring down the wrath of the Slayer and someone called the Red Witch. Evidently, while the boy might only beat me senseless, harming the boy would result in the Slayer grinding my bones to dust and, I quote 'you don't want to know what the Red Witch does to them what hurts her and hers, and that's a fact. Any creature with sense stays on that one's good side,'. He was quite ... disturbed at the notion of garnering this witch's wrath."

Dumbledore considered this. "So he does, in fact, work with the Slayer."

"It would seem so, yes."

Well, that settled the boy's identity as a Watcher, at any rate. Though the comment about this Red Witch was most disturbing. "Thank you, Severus. We'll talk more when we've had some rest. It's been a rather long day."

Snape said not a word, he just whirled and stomped out.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair. So, the boy was indeed a Watcher. And had, evidently, earned the loyalty of his Slayer. He supposed the boy was a replacement ... he was entirely too young to have raised the current Slayer himself, as was the norm from what little Dumbledore knew of the organization. And now they had yet another mystery in the identity of this Red Witch. He could, perhaps, discover more about her. Even if she was not a wand-witch, if she was as powerful as that warning made her sound, some trace of her existence would have made itself known in their world. But that search could wait until he'd gotten some sleep.

July 17, The Cottage

A little after midnight, Spike leaned against the edge of the house, smoking and enjoying a bit of peace. It'd been a right interesting few days, and no mistake. Not 'impending apocalypse' interesting, but still got the adrenaline going. Red and her witchy mentor'd left hours ago, after everyone'd had a good natter. Not that they'd decided on much, but there'd been quite a bit of talk. Almost reminded Spike of the get-togethers back in the 'dale to figure out the demon of the week. Harry'd asked to send a letter to Hermione, who, from the way he'd talked about her, was equal parts Red and the Watcher, and a good friend, and Hedwig'd been sent on her way. Probably meant they'd have another resident in the next day or two.

He was not the least bit surprised when he heard a familiar heartbeat approach. A few years back, if anyone told him he'd willingly hang out with 'Droopy' Harris, he'dve torn their lungs out. Strange how life ... unlife ... worked. Back when, Xan had hated him more'n a little. And he'd despised the boy right back. But even despising him, Spike'd had to admit the boy had guts. Boy'd gotten more'n his fair share of scars and shed more'n his fair share of blood fighting demons and beasties of every description and never backed down. Hell, boy stood up to Angelus. So he might not've liked Harris, but he respected the boy's determination. Then, that last year, the boy'd done a bit of growing up, and been a bit less annoying.

After ... well, after, Spike'd wanted no part of hanging around Angel. There was too much history between them for the two of them to ever be comfortable in each other's company. He'd headed straight for England and the bloody Scoobies, only to find out they'd gone and let the boy run around Africa alone. He'd let that lot know exactly what he thought of their idiocy and made tracks for Africa, fully expecting to find Xander minus even more bits than he'd lost already or worse, and drag him back.

He'd got the surprise of his unlife when he finally found him. Boy'd changed in the near-year since the last time he'd seen him. They'd had a row the likes of which he'd not had since the last time he went and pissed off the Slayer before they destroyed the 'dale. Quite a few bumps and bruises later, for both of them, it'd been decided that Xander would continue with his task, but that Spike would tag along as bodyguard and backup.

They'd annoyed each other, sniped at each other, and come to blows more than once that first couple months, but slowly things had changed. The sniping had turned playful, the fights turned to spars and Spike teaching the boy a few of the tricks he'd learned over the years. Eventually, (And Spike would go to his final death before he admitted this, to anyone) they'd become friends, and 'Droopy Harris' had become Xan. Which was rather a unique experience for Spike. Pathetic little William sure as hell hadn't had any friends to speak of, and Spike hadn't had any interest in such a thing ... what self-respecting vamp did? ... before he'd gone and got his soul.

"You've been awfully quiet all day, Spike." Xander commented from the back door.

Spike gave an amused snort. "Been tryin' not to scare the natives, pet. Don't fancy getting dusted. Boy might not know what to do but the wolf and Black do, and that interfering git probably does too."

Xander chuckled as he moved to lean against the house a few feet away. "God, this is a hell of a mess, isn't it?"

"No shit. Stupid plonker. Blood magic ... " Spike shook his head. "He's just lucky the bit didn't get killed thanks to that ward."

"You're telling me. And all those tracking spells? Dumbledore is definitely giving me an 'old watcher' vibe. With a possible ... ok, probably ... Travers edge to it."

"Yeah. Gonna have to be ready for him. We caught him with his britches around his ankles. Somehow, I don't think that happens much. Reckon he'll find out as much about us as he can, and right quick-like."

That made Xander snicker. "Wonder what he'll make of the reps the Scoobies have in the demon community?"

Spike laughed. "If he's got any contacts in that arena, though that greasy git looks to be the type that would. What do you make of him?" Spike had learned to trust Xander's ability to read people. Well, people of the male variety, and of females not interested in getting Xan horizontal. Xan still had a distressing tendency to attract rather dangerous female attention. Spike had yet to figure out why ... or why Xander was such a demon magnet. Some things, he supposed, were not meant to be understood.

"He's a bastard and a slippery son of a bitch, but I don't think he's outright evil, or siding with Moldie, despite what Sirius seems to think. I'm pretty sure we can trust him to not sell Harry to Voldemort, but anything beyond that is probably still fair game."

Spike nodded. "Good, 's one less problem, yeah?"

"Yeah. Now we just have to figure out what the deal is with Harry's scar, thump some sense into Dumbledore, get Harry trained, and figure out a way to off Moldie." Xander grimaced. "Tell me again why we signed on for this gig?"

"Because we were bored?"

"Remind me not to let us get bored again, ok?"

Spike snickered. "Speaking of training ... "

"Yeah, we're going to have to get them all up to speed, aren't we? I'm getting the definite impression that 'wizardry' and 'physical effort' are kind of contradictory concepts. It really doesn't help that Sirius looks like shit. Remind me not to get tossed in their jail, right?"

"Too right on that." Spike agreed. Black definitely had the 'concentration camp survivor' look going. "'m thinking that bug-eyed little critter's gonna come in handy. According to that lot, they do a lot of house chores. Thinkin' we can use his help keeping this lot fed proper."

Xander considered that. "If he's willing, I sure don't see why not. God knows the little guy's loyal as hell to Harry, which is definitely of the good. Might even see if we can get him to help us keep an eye out for Harry at the school." Then he snickered. "Wonder what he did to Dumbledore when he left here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, mate. Little blighter seems to be pretty inventive, if the bit's not been telling tall tales."

"No kidding." Xander sighed. "I'm heading back in. You staying up?" Now that Spike had the option of doing stuff during the day without worry, he figured Spike'd switch from nocturnal to diurnal.

"Yeah. Wanna watch the sun rise."

Xander just gave Spike an understanding grin before he turned and headed into the house.


	10. Enter Hermione

Enter Hermione

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 17, The Cottage

Morning brought Hedwig with a reply from Hermione even before they'd all gathered at the breakfast table, although Xander would be the first to admit that they had not exactly gotten off to an early start, after the late night they'd all had. Spike, of course, was sound asleep and would remain so until close to noon. He could hear Sirius and Remus moving around upstairs, getting ready to come down as he got breakfast started.

Harry petted Hedwig with one hand while he stole a still-hot bit of bacon fresh from the pan with the other. "Hang on just a second, Hedwig. It needs to cool a bit." He told Hedwig.

Xander restrained an amused snort at Harry chatting to Hedwig like she understood. From the way Hedwig was preening his hair and generally fussing over Harry, Xander would not be at all surprised to discover the owl was sentient.

Once the bit of bacon had cooled, Harry gave it to Hedwig, who munched it down, nibbled Harry's fingers gently, and then 'walked' down his arm before taking off. Harry then turned his attention to the roll of pa ... whoops, parchment, Xander reminded himself ... Hedwig had brought him.

From the look of things, Hermione had had a lot to say. Xander couldn't see the writing, but the roll was pretty darn long. Two or three pages worth, he thought. Eventually, Harry lifted his head.

"She's pretty upset." He said. "Wants to come over right away." He sighed. "This is going to be hard on her. She's kind of attached to following the rules and obeying authority, you know? Or, well, she used to be." Harry grinned. "Me'n Ron have kind of corrupted her over the years, but she still frets about it." Still had a tendency to do as she was told and trust authority figures. Like Dumbledore.

Xander gave a bit of a grin. "Yeah, I know how that goes." Willow had authority figure issues too. "Pick her up after breakfast?" Xander suggested.

Harry nodded. "Probably a good idea. Who all's going to go?"

"Not you, Harry. Sorry, but you going to your best friend is a bit too predictable for my comfort." Xander said.

Harry sighed, but nodded. "You've got a point. Better send Remus then. She knows him. Sirius going just has disaster written all over it." Another sigh. "He kinda hates the whole having to hide thing."

Xander snorted. "Harry, we'll do everything we can to help Sirius. If all else fails, he can come work with the Watchers. He'd get diplomatic immunity that way. Might not allow him to walk around bold as brass in the wizarding world, given how little most of your world knows of us, but it would enable him to move in the muggle world ... and he'd be able to do magic still. Would be encouraged to use it, actually." He grinned. "And no one would be able to do a thing to him."

The look of relief on Harry's face made Xander want to hug the poor kid. God. Xander had every intention of making sure Sirius and Remus lived through whatever happened with this Voldemort character. They were the only family the kid had left, and Xander had seen just how badly Joyce and Tara's death had hit Buffy. Friends were good, but nothing beat a loving family, even if it wasn't a 'blood' family. Especially when you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. Xander'd seen that over and over again, with Buffy. Harry had been deprived of that support pretty much his whole life, which was a recipe for disaster. Just ask your average Slayer pre-Scoobies.

Remus and Sirius tromped down just then, Sirius looking more asleep than awake. Xander piled the food on plates, giving all three of them a rather pointed look. None of them was exactly in good condition. Harry was too thin from years of neglect, Sirius was verging on skeletal from whatever they'd done to him in jail, and Remus had the drawn, thin tiredness of someone used to privation in general. Xander made snarky mental commentary about how the wizarding world treated werewolves. So Remus got a little furry a couple nights a month. So what?

"Remus, would you be willing to go pick up Hermione? She's rather wanting to come be with Harry, and she's going to need trained too, same as him. She seems to have a penchant for following Harry into trouble." Xander asked.

"You can say that again." Sirius said with a grin, clearly remembering the adventure of escaping the dementors at the end of Harry's third year. Then he turned to Harry. "What about Ron?" He wanted to know.

Harry sighed. "I dunno, Sirius. He's given me an awful lot of grief. And I don't know that he could keep his mouth shut. You know how Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are about Dumbledore."

Sirius grimaced. That was all too true. Ron and the Weasleys might be innocent of wrongdoing or ill will, but if he told his parents anything, it'd go straight to Dumbledore.

"I think we can at least tell the twins, though, even if we don't bring them here. They'll keep mum." Harry grinned. "Especially if I bring the Marauders into it. They sort of hero-worship them." He gave Sirius and Remus a deeply amused grin.

One that Sirius returned. "They don't know yet?"

"Nah. Been waiting for the ... how do they say it? ... opportune moment." Harry's grin widened.

"Well, that's something to think about in the future, certainly, but in the meantime, Hermione will do for starters. And after we get her caught up to speed, tomorrow the training begins." Xander put in. "For all of you."

Xander was rather surprised that there were no overt objections, just groans of dismay from both Harry and Sirius. Remus looked uncomfortable, but willing to endure. Xander figured he was so used to holding himself away from everyone and everything that general physical contact was a bit of a foreign concept, nevermind sparring.

Remus left shortly after breakfast by apparation, and returned about ten minutes later with a highly agitated bushy-haired girl at his side. Said girl launched herself at Harry the moment she saw him.

"Harry! What on earth is going on? I've been so worried! Who are these people? Why did they bring you here? What do they want to teach you? I can't believe Dumbledore used blood wards. He's got to have known how dangerous they are! And all those tracking charms! What was he thinking?"

Xander couldn't help it. He started snickering. Hermione sounded so much like Willow just then. A bit more coherent, though. Willow tended to be all but indecipherable when she was stressed. "You must be Hermione Granger." He said, offering a hand as she swung around to study him. "Harry's told me a bit about you. My name's Alexander Harris, but everyone calls me Xander."

Hermione looked him up and down. "Are you really going to help Harry defeat Voldemort?" She demanded.

"Oh yeah. Voldie's going down. He just don't know it yet." Xander told her.

"And do you really work with the Slayer? And a vampire? Aren't vampires dangerous?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Xander answered. "But Spike is a special case. One of two, actually. Very long, complicated story, but the short of it is that Spike doesn't hunt humans anymore, and works with the good guys. He also saved the world a few years back."

That seemed to satisfy Hermione for the moment, and she reached out and shook the offered hand. "I have so many questions!"

Xander had no doubt.

They headed into the main room, and Remus led Hermione upstairs. It was only when they'd gone that Xander realized there was no sign of luggage of any kind. He shrugged. Maybe she wasn't staying? He started laughing again when the duo came back downstairs and he saw that Hermione had two books, a ream of paper/parchment, quills and ink. He also made a mental note to ask about luggage, since she sure hadn't had any of that in her hands on the way up.

She looked at him in confusion, and a little bit of hurt. "What?"

"You remind me a lot of my best friend Willow, that's all. I could so see her dragging books, notebook and pen to take notes with in this sort of situation." Xander told her.

That got him a somewhat relieved looking smile. They all arranged themselves on the furniture, and Xander grinned across at Hermione. "Let the inquisition begin."

She blushed a bit, but soldiered on, setting everything up. Once she was ready, she looked over at him. "Ok, so ... Dumbledore used a blood ward on the Dursely's house. And the tracking charms. And goodness knows, he's done nothing to train Harry!" She looked rightly pissed about that. "And Harry said something about something very nasty being attached to his scar? What?"

"We have no idea. Yet." Xander admitted. "Willow's gone to do some research, both to figure out what it is and to get rid of it."

"And why is Harry wearing a necklace of crystals?"

Xander grinned. "Because earth magic leaves a ... residue, for lack of a better word. The more magic done, or the stronger it is, in one spot or on one person, the bigger the residue and the more it lingers. With 'good' earth magic, that's not a problem ... that's how you get consecrated ground and suchlike things. But when it's dark magic ... " Xander made a face.

"And blood magic is really dark."

"Yeah. Those crystals speed up the dissipation of magic residue. Willow left bigger versions scattered all over Privet Drive, otherwise it'd probably be a couple decades before the place was 'clean' again. With the crystals there to help, it'll shorten the time considerably. Same for Harry. They're absorbing the last remnants of blood magic residue from him ... and keeping the dark magic radiating from that whatever-it-is under his scar to a dull roar."

"Wait, consecrated ground? You mean like in cemeteries?" Sirius asked.

Xander nodded.

"But that's ...oh, merlin, what's the name ... cath-something."

"Catholics? Yeah. But, back in the day, early Catholics stole great chunks of traditions and suchlike things from the so-called pagan religions whole-cloth ... mostly without realizing what, exactly, they were stealing. Most of the pagan religions got their start worshiping nature under the guise of a god or goddess, or quite a few of them, and a lot of their priests or priestesses were practitioners of earth magic." Xander explained

Hermione blinked. "And when the Catholics stole from those religions in an effort to get believers to convert to Catholicism ... they tapped into earth magic as well, without realizing it."

"Give the lady a prize." Xander said with a grin. "It doesn't matter to earth magic who, exactly, you're worshipping, so long as you get the necessary words, motions, or potion ingredients right and you have some scrap of magical ability in you somewhere. And in the case of consecrated ground, at any rate, there was an extra added impetus for the practice to be picked up and maintained."

"Vampires." Hermione said.

"Yep. Vamps and 'good' earth magic do not play nicely at all. And as much as normal people don't 'see' vampires or demons, they have some sort of sense that there's monsters under the bed, and because of that, the practice of consecrating burial grounds continues."

"So you're planning to teach Harry some of this Earth magic, then?" Hermione asked.

Xander shook his head. "Nope. For one, I can't do earth magic to teach it to him. For two, I really don't think magic is going to end up being the answer to offing Voldie."

"So, what will you be teaching me?" Harry wanted to know.

"Xan's gonna teach ya what he does best, shrimp. Stomp the stuffin' out of baddies despite not bein' the biggest badass in the fight."

"Gee, thanks Spike. And here I was worried my ego would get out of control." Xander said, voice completely deadpan despite the tolerant grin on his face. "Good thing I keep you around, isn't it? Don't have anything to worry about."

Hermione twisted around to look at Spike, eyes going wide when she realized he was in full sunlight. "I ... vampire ... but ... sun ... what ... how?"

"Necro-tinting on the windows, ducks." Spike said, clearly enjoying her confusion.

"Nec ... what?" She sputtered, still not quite processing.

"A special film that filters out the part of sunlight that makes vamp go all dusty." Xander explained. "Though that necklace he's wearing is something Willow cooked up to allow him to walk around outside during the day."

"Really? How did she do it? What spell did she use? Did the necklace have to be made of special materials?" Hermione asked, as rapidfire as her first volley of questions had been, clearly getting back on track now she had something to investigate.

Xander and Spike both laughed. "Whoah, whoah. Time! I can't answer those questions for you. You'd have to talk to Willow. And yes, I can get you in contact with her."

"Bird's a chip off the old block, isn't she?" Spike asked, looking highly amused, before heading into the kitchen.

"Right, anyways. What I'll be teaching. Physical fighting stuff. Punching, kicking, tackling. I've been getting the feeling that stuff like that would be rather a bit ... unexpected." Xander said.

Sirius and Remus both nodded. "Yeah, it would be, especially against purebloods, and that's all the Death Eaters. Provided you can get close enough to hit them before they start hexing."

"Which is where teaching you guys to handle knives and daggers comes in." Xander said. "I already started working with Harry on learning to throw a knife to disarm someone. I'll be teaching you other tricks as well." Then, he gave the group a very serious look. "What I won't teach you is how to shake a finger at these people and go 'bad wizard! Stop or I tell your mommy!'. Where I come from, you hit fast and you hit hard as hell, or you get dead. From what you two told me of the first half of this war." He motioned to Sirius and Remus. "Voldemort and his groupies raped, tortured, and murdered their way through the island. Bastards like that don't deserve mercy, and if you try to give it to them, they'll turn around and kill you. That little disarming trick I showed Harry will be an 'appetizer', so to speak. A starting point. Not his sole means of defense."

Sirius and Remus looked grim. "Dumbledore is not going to like that one bit. He insisted, right from the very first, that we use stunners and the like against the Death Eaters." Sirius said.

Xander blinked. "You're shitting me."

"Sadly, no." Remus sighed.

Xander regarded both of them. "Either of you going to have issues with what amounts to a scorched-earth policy?"

"Not a chance in hell." Sirius' voice was a near-snarl. "Those bastards cost me ... us ... almost everything. I've got no problem whatever making damn sure they don't get a second chance at it." He looked over at Harry. "I failed once. I bloody well refuse to fail again." Beside him, Remus was nodding in agreement, eyes more hazel than brown and expression grimly determined.

"Excellent." Xander said.

Spike came in then, having eaten his liquid breakfast, and slouched into one of the remaining seats.

Hermione and Harry did not look quite as sanguine about the situation. "I ... do we have to ... kill them?" Hermione sounded completely horrified.

Xander blinked. "Oh, no. God no. I wouldn't ask that of you, either of you." He looked more than a bit contrite. "Wherever possible, you two aren't going to have to deal with these assholes. In your cases, I meant that knocking people temporarily unconscious and leaving it at that isn't going to be the sort of thing I teach you. In order to stop anyone trying to hurt or kidnap you permanently, you're going to have to really hurt them. Break their arms so they can't wave a wand around. Break their wands, if you can get your hands on them." That got a flinch from all of the wizards, making Xander blink. "Break legs or whatever so they can't run away to do it all over again another day. That sort of thing."

While Hermione looked a tad uncomfortable still, she also looked much relieved. Harry just gave a grim nod.

"You guys have the rest of today to kick back and relax. We'll start the training in earnest tomorrow." Xander told them. Then. "Oh, that reminds me. Ummm ... anyone know where Dobby's at?"

Dobby popped in. "Mister Harris sir is asking for Dobby?"

Xander blinked. "Just call me Xander, Dobby." He said. "And yeah, I was. I was wondering if you'd be willing to cook and clean for us? We're going to be really busy ... and they." He pointed to the wizards. "Are going to be way too tired to manage cooking and cleaning on top of training."

Dobby looked like he'd been given the keys to the world. "Dobby will be most happy to help the great Harry Potter and his friends! Dobby is most willing to look after them!" His already rather high-pitched voice was pushing dog-whistle level in his excitement, and he was bouncing up and down.

Xander grinned at the little guy's excitement. "That's great Dobby. We appreciate it."

"Dobby." Harry said before the little guy could disappear. "What did you tell Dumbledore last night?"

Dobby got a wicked grin on his face. "Dobby is telling him he is hurting Harry Potter sir. And acting like Dobby's old master. Dobby is not letting anyone hurt Harry Potter sir! He is making Dumbledore sir realize he did bad!"

"Way to go, Dobby. And thank you." Harry said.

Dobby actually blushed before he popped back out of sight.

Hermione glanced over at Spike, and Xander nearly started laughing again. He'd seen that look before. And from the mildly alarmed expression on Spike's face, he recognized it too.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" She asked Spike. "It's just that there's very little known about vampires in general because mostly, anyone that gets close enough to talk to one gets eaten, and I have so many questions! Why have you stopped hunting people? How? I thought vampires HAD to drink human blood or else?"

"Oh bloody hell." Spike whined. "You really are another Red." He gave a very put-upon sigh, then pointed at her. "M'not gonna tell you everything. Most of it, you got no need to know about. But if you're anything like Red, y'won't stop houndin' me until I answer some of it, so I will." With that, he sat back and began answering her questions.


	11. Training Begins

Training Begins

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter

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July 18, The Cottage

Xander woke before dawn the next morning. He trundled into the kitchen and made himself coffee, trying to wake himself up. He'd just poured himself a cup when Dobby popped in.

"Yous is wanting something, Mister Xander sir?" Dobby asked.

"Breakfast would be good." Xander admitted. "Actually, we kinda need to talk about that."

Dobby gave him a confused look.

"You know Harry's on the skinny side." This got Xander a fervent nod of agreement. "And Sirius is in pretty sorry shape, too. Remus isn't all that much better. And we're going to be doing a lot of physical working out. They're going to need special diets. Lots and lots of protein ... especially for Remus. Werewolves burn through calories like crazy." He remembered that much from Oz. "No fried foods. Lots of green vegetables and fruits. Go easy on the starches." Dobby nodded fervently. Xander turned and dug through one of the cabinets, coming out with a can. "And smaller meals, but more of them. With snacks if needed, especially for Remus, Sirius and Harry." Less so for Hermione. Her youth and better health would stand her in good stead. "This is a muggle product. It's a powder that's put into water, gives the water flavor and adds stuff the body uses up when it exercises." He so wasn't going to explain the specifics to Dobby. "Can you read?"

"Dobby can, Mister Xander."

"Cool. The instructions are on the side of the container. We'll be drinking a good bit of this when we work out. There are containers ... " Xander paused, and rummaged around through a few cabinets before he found what he was looking for, good old fashioned sports bottles. "Aha. Here they are. These. Put the drinks in these, and we can carry them and not worry about spilling it all over the place."

Dobby nodded. "Dobby understands, sir. Dobby will make sure Harry Potter sir and his friends get properly fed, sir!" And the little fellow immediately fell to the task of starting breakfast. Xander watched idly for a few moments before heading upstairs. Time to wake the sleeping beauties. They were so going to hate him before the week was up.

"Rise and shine! Wakey Wakey! Everybody up! Let's go! Time to make some muscle!" He yelled, banging on doors. He got a full Master Vampire snarl out of Spike for the racket, but he'd warned Spike last night that this was going to happen, so he at least didn't have Spike slamming him against a wall or something to get him to shut up, which was a small mercy.

Harry and Remus were the first ones to roust. Poor Harry must have catapulted out of bed, if the crash was anything to go by. Remus was the first to actually emerge from the rooms, looking more than a bit rumpled, sleepy, and a touch grumpy. Harry and Hermione were next, both of them looking like they'd stuck a finger in a light socket. Xander was about to go into Remus and Sirius' room and get a bit more drastic with waking methods when Sirius rolled out of bed (quite literally, and with a resounding crash) and dragged himself downstairs.

Xander grinned at the motley, surly, half-asleep group when they'd assembled in the main room. "Ok, gang. We're going to go for a nice walk around the property to wake up properly and get blood flowing. By then, breakfast will be ready." He got four dirty looks, but they didn't argue. Probably still too sleepy to muster the energy for it.

He led them outside and started jogging, following the cottage's wards in a big circle. They followed, though not without a bit of under-the-breath grumbling that started about halfway through the first lap. Xander kept the pace fairly slow and kept a sharp ear and eye out for Sirius, who was the one most likely to have difficulties at this point, given his condition.

Two laps, he decided as they rounded the final turn of that second lap, was enough for today. They'd work up to more, of course, but no need to push them beyond their endurance before the day even started. He headed everyone inside, and they all headed for the kitchen.

Dobby'd done brilliantly ... breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, wedges of cheese and slices of fruit, yogurt with chopped nuts sprinkled on top, milk and orange juice. Definitely nothing like a 'normal' British breakfast, but hey.

"Eat up." Xander encouraged them. "Don't gorge, since trust me, working out on an overfull stomach is not a good thing, but don't skimp either."

Breakfast consumed, they trooped downstairs. Xander decided to get them going on a warmup routine of stretches. "Ok, guys. Start stretching out. You know how?" Hermione and Harry both nodded, probably remembering the basics from phys ed before they went to magic school. Sirius and Remus just sort of gave him funny looks.

"Do what now?" Sirius asked.

Xander gave a snort of amusement. "Stretch out. Don't worry. I'll show you what to do."

He spent the next while showing both men the basics, and cautioned them not to push too far. "The more you work at it, the more your flexibility will improve, but it's a case of make progress slowly. Trying to rush it will result in pain and damage to joints or muscles."

He left them to actually doing the exercises and headed for Harry and Hermione, to make sure they were doing ok. Soon, everyone was warmed up. Dobby popped in with a tray laden with drink containers and snacks, which were gratefully received.

"What is this stuff?" Sirius wanted to know, wrinkling his nose after a sip of the drink.

"It's a muggle product. Helps keep you hydrated, and replaces some of the stuff you lose when you exercise." Xander explained. "Dobby, would you tell Spike it's time to come down here?"

Dobby nodded and popped out. Spike tromped down the stairs a few moments later. "Show'n tell time, eh?"

"Yeah."

They split up. Spike worked with Sirius, and more importantly, Remus. Xander figured Remus would be a lot less worried about hurting a vampire than he would a normal person, and therefore more inclined to actually try to fight. Xander worked with the two kids.

And the problems began. Harry had a rather deeply ingrained flinch response to physical attack, even when he was holding his wand. He also had a tendency towards curling into a ball to protect himself, if he didn't have his wand in hand. Xander gave a purely mental sigh, cursed Dumbledore and the Dursleys, and committed to the long-haul job of helping Harry squelch that response and learn to fight back. Hermione, to his amusement but definitely not his surprise, given his work with Slayers, had no such issues. Especially after Harry, with a look of deep amusement, told her to pretend Xander was Draco. Hermione's blush said there was a story there, but she'd also gone in swinging when he'd worked with her to see what she already knew. She didn't have anything like actual training, but she managed to pack a pretty solid punch, and didn't seem to have any problems with retaliation, whether physically or magically.

On the other side of the room, the commentary from Spike was a clear indicator things weren't going any better with the adults.

"Oi, me bed-ridden grandma could hit better'n that!" was pretty much the gentlest comment made.

Xander didn't get to see much of what they were doing on that side of the room, but from what he did see, neither Remus nor Sirius had the first clue what the heck they were doing in a physical fight, and Remus looked to be very leery of getting into a scrap at all. Assessment done, he and Spike settled in for a practical demo.

"Remus, if you'd be willing to be my assistant?" Xander asked.

Remus gave Xander a wary look, but nodded, then joined him in front of the others.

"Ok. Since we're going to be teaching 'mean and dirty tricks' 101 here ... " Xander presented Remus with a stick about a foot long. "Pretend this is your wand, so your real one doesn't accidentally get damaged. Now, I want you to pretend you're going to hex me. I'm going to demonstrate a few moves that can be used at short range."

Remus gave him another highly doubtful look, but then shrugged, then pointed the stick at Xander's chest.

"Ok, if you're this close to someone about to hex you ... well, we'll be having a discussion later about letting someone that close, but there's a lot you can do. First, best option, always, go for the wand and the wand hand." Xander demonstrated with a fairly light tap to the inside of Remus' wand hand. "Push it to the side, at the very least. If you can, hit hard enough to make them lose their grip or better yet, drop it. If you're close enough, grab the thing, but remember to keep it pointed away from you!" Xander grabbed it. "Now, if your reactions last night were anything to go by, breaking wands, or the threat thereof, is going to freak people out, yes?"

"Definitely." Came the fervent response from all four wizards.

"Ok, so grabbing the extra length will startle them. And if you put pressure on it like you're going to break it ... " Xander trailed off.

"They'll let go. Too risky to try to wrest your hand off their wand ... might break it anyway." Sirius said, with a bit of a grin.

"Right. So. Aim for the wand and hand first if you get the chance. If you can't get the wand out of their possession, you're pretty much going to have one chance to hurt them bad enough to make hexing you impossible. If they're a guy, the good old fashioned standby of a knee to the family jewels is an option. So is a punch to the nose. For the adults in the room, a punch to the gut will also work, as you two will have more strength to back the punch up. Either way, after knocking their wand off-target, you're going to get one hit, so make it count. At that point, they'll either be down on the ground or the next best thing to it ... and unless they've got their wand welded to their hand, they'll have either dropped it or loosened their grip such that you can snatch it. The second you have an enemy's wand in your hands, snap it!" Xander snorted at their horrified looks. "Yes, I said snap it. I imagine that's seriously frowned on, but it will end the fight really damn fast, which is the whole point. Take them down fast and hard."

He gave Remus a nod, and Remus rejoined the others. They spent the rest of the morning working on basic punches and aim. Faced with nothing more than a dummy, Harry lost much of his hesitance at hitting back, so did Remus. To Xander's further delight, all four of them seemed to be picking up on the basics without too many problems.

After a break for lunch, they returned to the training room. Xander then moved to the second half of the training ... long-range physical defense, which meant knives and daggers. He wasn't about to put guns in the hands of kids and a pair of purebloods who had no idea how the things worked. That could only ever end badly. Thankfully, as with the close-range fighting, they mostly picked up on knife and dagger throwing without massive issues. Unfortunately, Hermione was the holdout of the group. She could, apparently, aim a hex, but throwing a knife and hitting a target seemed to be very difficult for her.

After a rest and a snack, Spike and Xander yielded the floor to Sirius and Remus, to teach the kids spells. Remus was clearly in his element as he started to show Harry and Hermione some spells.

Three minutes into the lesson, Xander was giving Spike a wide-eyed look. "You know, I am SO glad I hadn't seen this before we had that chat with Dumbledore." He admitted.

He was used to Willow ... insanely powerful, yes, but even her spells took time to be done. This was something else entirely. Weaker, but fast as hell.

Spike snorted. "Ain't got half the power Red's got." He said, echoing Xander's thoughts.

"Yeah, but it happens faster. And seems to have a heck of a lot more options. Willow's whammy tends towards 'big boom', no matter what she's trying to do. I mean, fireballs, world endage, that sort of thing." Xander said.

"Ya got a point. Seems like both've got their uses, hey?" Then, with a disgusted snort. "I hate mojo."

"You and me both. So the quicker we get this done, the better." Xander commented.

"Too right, mate, too right. Whatcha figurin' fer the big bad?"

"Axe to the head is my thought. Not much can live through that."

"True enough." Spike sounded amused.

"I'm not making Harry do it. To hell with what that prophecy says and what Dumbledore expects. Kid's got enough to deal with as it is. Adding more blood to his hands, even if it's someone that really fucking deserves it ... " Xander shook his head. "I am never, ever going to understand people that expect little kids to solve their problems for them." That went for the Shadow Men and their 'cram a demon into a little girl to save the world' thing as well as situations like this.

"That makes two of us pet. Bunch of spineless wankers, y'ask me."

Eventually they took a break longer than was needed to eat and headed upstairs, flopping on the couches in the main room upstairs.

"Merlin. I think my aches have aches." Sirius whined.

"More tomorrow." Xander said, wholly without sympathy. "But that's it for today. Rest of today is research party time."

"Huh? Why?" Harry asked.

"Information's power, Harry. We need every scrap we can find. We know Voldie existed as a real person at some point. Time to start finding out everything we can about him. Where he's been, what he's done, what he's learned. How he operated the first time 'round. Try to figure out what that scar's about. Dig up every scrap of info we can on his known supporters." That last could and would be used to devastating effect, if Xander had his way. Cut a general off from a supply of troops, and you wouldn't have much of a war on your hands.

"Well, we can get a wealth of information on the Malfoys just by asking Dobby." Harry said. "Other than that ... we don't have any books here we can research with, do we?"

"Sadly, no. Willow's working the scar issue from the earth magic end, but the rest of it, I was mostly planning on picking Remus and Sirius' brains some more tonight, and get some books later tonight or tomorrow." Xander said.

"Well, I can get you information on most of Voldemort's followers." Sirius said. "And maybe on Voldemort himself. My family had a pretty good library. Remus and I have access to the house. Dumbledore put it under Fidelius, so I'd have somewhere safe to live and he'd have somewhere safe for Order meetings. I can't tell you where it is, but Remus and I can head over there and grab a good chunk of the library."

"Sounds like a plan to me, Sirius. And thanks. I was not looking forward to having to wring information out of Dumbledore." Xander said. "That old man's going to be a pain in the neck."

"I can't imagine why." Sirius said with a grin, then groaned as he pushed to his feet. "C'mon, Moony. Sooner we get this over, the better."

The two headed off and returned almost an hour later ... empty handed.

"Got locked out?" Xander asked.

"Nah, not hardly." Remus pulled a palm-sized box out of each pocket and set them on the floor, well apart from each other. A tap of the wand to each and they suddenly grew into large trunks.

"Whoah. That is cool. I don't think Willow has that particular trick." Fireballs and teleportation, yes. Shrinky-dink powers, no.

It just got weirder from there, because there were a lot more books in the trunks than their size would have led Xander to believe. He made a mental note to inquire later. The Slayers would happily kill for a trunk like this to hold all their weaponry. Hell, he'd kill for one!

Very shortly, everyone was sprawled around with books of varying sizes and in various states of upkeep. Much of what had been brought was history books, and Xander found himself getting absorbed in the material despite the sometimes odd way the stories were written.

"Why can't we learn about this stuff in History of Magic?" Harry complained several hours later. "All Binns ever talks about are Goblin Wars."

"Because Binns never altered his teaching material even when he was alive, so why would he do it when he was dead?" Sirius pointed out.

That made Xander's head snap up. "Wait, you have a zombie teaching?"

"Not zombie. Ghost." Remus corrected.

"And I thought Sunnyhell High was weird."

"Xan ... two words. Praying Mantis." Spike pointed out, having heard that story. Then he snickered. "And Inca Mummy, and zombies, and ... "

"Yes, yes, thank you Spike. We get the point." Xander cut him off before he could really get going. Some stories, damn it all, refused to die.

Unfortunately, Spike now had everyone's undivided attention. "Praying Mantis? Inca Mummy? Zombies? Do tell!" Sirius had a look of gleeful mayhem on his face.

"Bleachie, one more word out of you and I'm putting holy water in your blood."

Spike glowered at Xander. "No bloody fun at all, mate." The second Xander returned his attention to the book he was reading, Spike mouthed 'tell you later' at Sirius.


	12. Uncomfortable Meetings

Uncomfortable Meetings

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Thanks to Coffeeninja from TtH for betaing the Giles/Dumbledore meeting.

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July 25, The Cottage

The next week was ... rather interesting. For everyone.

The Cottage crew spent their time between physical training, learning spells, and research. Harry soon became a real threat with a knife. He didn't hit the bullseye blade first every time, but by the end of the week, he was consistently able to hit wand, hand, or arm with some part of the knife every time he threw. He was, however, having less success controlling his tendency to flinch and curl up protectively when deprived of the ability to use his wand. He was getting better, but he still had a (rather disastrous) tendency to hesitate before going on the offensive. He was also putting on weight, much to Dobby's evident pleasure. Xander suspected the poor kid might even gain some inches this year, now he had a proper diet under his belt.

Hermione was turning into quite the little firecracker. She'd had a solid punch on her right from the get-go, and proved more than willing to learn the various moves and put them to good use. Sadly, her aim with a knife left much to be desired.

Sirius, despite being a pureblood, seemed to catch on to the whole 'punch the crap out of people' thing pretty fast. Xander decided it had something to do with the 'turn into a dog' trick. He'd certainly been wholly willing to try to rip Xander to shreds, when they first met, and he approached the sparring lessons with a grim, fierce determination. His aim with a knife at first was pure crap, but he was improving rapidly. Actually, of the four, Xander found himself becoming friendliest with Sirius. They shared a fairly similar sense of humor ... and a rather similar outlook on protecting them and theirs. Sirius was also starting to fill out and look healthier, much to his (and everyone else's, to be honest) relief. His progress was slower than everyone else's, but Xander didn't push. The poor guy practically fell asleep standing up every evening as it was.

Remus proved to be a bit of a problem at first. He didn't have a problem sparring with Spike, but he was ... rather highly reluctant to spar with Xander or even Sirius, the time Xander tried that, hoping their friendship would make Remus more comfortable. It took Xander losing his temper, cornering Remus and honestly trying to beat the man senseless before Remus finally lost his reserve and started fighting back. Xander could understand the hesitancy ... werewolf strength was nothing to laugh at, the risk of infecting someone was very real, and hurting people you cared about royally sucked, but that hesitancy had no place in a fight, and Remus' strength would be a huge asset. He was far more comfortable with the knife throwing, and proved to have remarkably deadly aim. Consistent access to the amount of calories he needed was also doing the man wonders ... he was the only one of the four who, at the end of the week, wasn't crashing into bed not to move until forcibly rousted out of it in the morning. Despite all the exercise, he actually had more energy, not less.

They also spent time learning how to take a fall, take advantage of any junk that happened to be lying around the battlefield, whether to use it as cover or as weaponry, and situational awareness. Spike had a lot of fun with that one, as he got to spend a good part of the week trying to sneak up on everyone. He got everyone at least once, even Remus, though thanks to Remus' senses, he'd had to work a lot harder for that one than he'd had to for the others.

On the spells side of things, Remus and Sirius were taking their cue from Xander, and teaching Harry and Hermione quite the range of devastating spells. The mock duels were kind of scary to watch, but in a totally 'Harry is so going to kick ass and take names' way.

The research was going slowly, but they were gaining ground. They'd dug up quite a bit about Tom Marvolo Riddle when they went digging in the Muggle world, an idea triggered by the fact that Tom had had a muggle father. Details wizard-side were sketchier, but there was at least the start of a trail to follow, since he'd had a job at Borgin and Burkes shortly after graduating, and he'd evidently tried for the DADA job before disappearing for a good number of years, only to reappear as Lord Voldemort. The Death Eaters were a lot easier. Sirius knew great chunks about some of them because they were 'close' relatives of the Blacks or had run in the same social circle as his parents. Pureblood mania being what it was, the Blacks had a number of books that detailed various family histories for the last couple hundred years or so, which provided insights as well. Dobby did indeed prove to be a gold mine of information on the Malfoys, though they had to tread gently with the questions lest they cause the little guy too much distress.

The more Xander learned about these four, the more he liked them. He made a mental note to offer Sirius and Remus jobs once the hooplah wound down. Giles would salivate over Remus. Watchers were very, painfully thin on the ground after the old HQ got blown up, and Remus ... well, the man was a natural for being a Watcher. He had a good base of knowledge of 'things that go bump' already, though generally by a different name than Xander knew them by, and it wouldn't take him long at all to catch up on the more esoteric demon stuff. Plus, no one in the New Watchers would care about the werewolf thing. Better yet, he was a natural teacher. Sirius would be a godsend with the youngest 'wannabes', the under fifteen crowd. The ones not allowed to Slay, yet. Xander wasn't quite sure how he'd managed it, but despite everything the man had been through, he still had a sense of humor, fun, and mischief that would serve him well riding herd on the girls. Maybe even as full Watcher to one of their quirkier Slayers. Xander had amused himself imagining what would happen if they paired Sirius with Faith. The possibilities ranged from downright, outright terrifying to hysterically funny.

Xander was also seriously considering offering a position as a Watcher-in-training to Harry after the end of this mess. Poor kid had no chance at just being 'Harry' in the wizarding world. Nobody in the Watchers would worship/vilify him, and he'd still be able to use magic as he pleased. Plus, if they managed to convince Remus and Sirius to join them, Xander strongly suspected that where they went, Harry would follow. Hermione, well, the only problem with her was that Xander wasn't sure if she'd want to leave the wizarding world or not. Xander honestly feared what she and Willow would be capable of if they started collaborating. He'd lucked out thus far on that, as Hermione had been too tired after a day full of training and research to want to get in contact with Willow.

July 25, Hogwarts

The Cottage Crew weren't the only ones learning things. Dumbledore and Snape were, slowly, beginning to gather information on Xander, Spike, and Willow as well. Neither of them quite knew how much of what they learned to believe. Many of the stories were so wild as to beggar belief, but some things remained the same.

Mostly the sentiment, immediately offered, to not piss off, harm, or get in the way of the White Knight, aka Xander. The threatened results varied from tale to tale but never failed to be dire, and always featured not just Xander's retribution, but the Slayer and the Red Witch. Many threw in the Watcher and Souled Vamp into the bargain.

Late on the third day, one of Severus' contacts had passed on a message. Their inquiries had been noticed. If they wanted information, they would show up at a certain place at a certain time, and someone would tell them what they wanted to know.

There was no way Dumbledore was going to pass that up. Neither was Snape.

 

July 25, The Meeting

Their directions led them to a small, out of the way cafe in a London suburb. Dumbledore had chosen to wear something that at least wouldn't draw too much attention, having managed a suit (though he'd not been able to resist making it a deep purple). Snape simply transfigured his outer robe to resemble a duster and then glared at anyone that looked at him too closely.

The weather was fine enough to permit dining al fresco, and at one of the outside tables Giles sat watching the two wizards approach with tightly concealed amusement. Really. These people had rules about exposing their world to outsiders, and then they dressed like that? Oh, it wasn't blatantly obvious, but it definitely drew some amount of attention, particularly the man he knew to be Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, Professor. Please take a seat. We've quite a bit to discuss." Giles said, motioning to the two chairs on the other side of the small table as soon as the two men were within conversational range.

Both men sat at the little iron and glass table. Snape stared around them with a disgusted sneer. Out in the open, where anyone could walk past and hear their conversation? Clearly this man had no concept of the meaning of discretion.

After waiting for the two men to settle in their seats Giles began their discussion, "Now, I have heard you have been making inquires about Alexander Harris and Spike."

"We are merely curious as to who he is, and what his intentions are." Dumbledore replied, a nonthreatening smile on his face.

Giles smiled tightly. "I'm sure. Well, to that, I can put your worries to rest. Xander is ... one of the most remarkable young men it has ever been my pleasure to meet. He grew up in Sunnydale, California, which houses a hellmouth. Are either of you ... ahhh, I see you are familiar with the term, Headmaster." For Dumbledore's eyes had darkened at the mention of hellmouths. "In brief, for your colleague, then, hellmouths are foul holes in the fabric of reality that create doorways between our world and various ... highly unpleasant ... realms where demons of varying descriptions and strength reside, allowing them access to our world. They draw all manner of evil to them, corrupting that evil even further and giving it strength."

Snape gave a convulsive shudder at the concept ... and at the idea of Voldemort getting anywhere near one. He promptly decided to  
forget he'd ever heard anything about such a thing.

Giles took a sip of his tea and continued, ignoring Snape's reaction. "Xander grew up under one's influence, and yet it did not corrupt him. He was unaware of the demonic world until he was fifteen, when the current Slayer moved to Sunnydale. Unfortunately, Xander lost a close friend soon thereafter. He was turned by a vampire and Xander was the one who was forced to stake him." However accidentally it may have happened.

Dumbledore nodded quietly. Such an occurrence would have quite an effect on anyone, he knew after all.

Another sip. "Since then, Xander has fought tirelessly at the Slayer's side. He has no supernatural abilities, gentlemen, no magic. Yet this mere boy ... " Giles shook his head. "At the age of fifteen, he shattered a prophecy to bits because he refused to allow someone else he knew to die if there was anything at all he could do to stop it. The Slayer was prophesied to die ... yet she lives still, and is well on her way to being the oldest living Slayer on record. He has confronted some of the foulest creatures of creation with nothing but his courage, his loyalty, and an unbending determination to win. In many cases, he played a pivotal role in the defeat of those same creatures."

"A Muggle Gryffindor." Snape sneered in disgust. "But I suppose that makes sense. Who else to send when you need someone to act brave and be foolish?"

"Severus." Dumbledore scolded gently.

Giles stared at Snape for a long moment, then took another sip of tea. "I sent him to Harry because I knew Xander would ensure that what needed to be done got done, and keep Harry alive into the bargain. He will protect Harry by any means necessary, and give him the support he needs. I have no idea what you mean by Gryffindor, but if you think Xander a falsely brave fool, you will be quite surprised"

After pausing to consider this new information Dumbledore decided to move on with his questions "And Spike?"

Giles responded with a slightly bitter, ironic laugh. "Spike is, undoubtedly, the most contrary being in all of existence and very nearly defies explanation. He's a vampire who even before he arrived at to the hellmouth, broke all the rules. He's one of a handful of vampires to reach the status of Master before their fiftieth year. He possesses a cunning few can match, has bested two slayers in his time, and is utterly ruthless. Before his," Giles paused a moment, "change of circumstances I would not have hesitated at all in declaring him one of the most dangerous vampires currently existing. His ensoulment changed only the fact that he no longer killed to eat or for enjoyment. Nevertheless, if you are an enemy he will have no mercy on you whatsoever."

Dumbledore chose to ignore the implied threat, but his posture became somewhat more guarded, "And these others we have been warned will wreak vengeance on us if we harm Mr. Harris? The Slayer is self-explanatory, but The Red Witch, Watcher, Souled Vamp?"

"The Red Witch is Willow Rosenberg." Giles told them. "She and Xander have been friends since they were three or four years old, I do believe. They are very close. Willow also happens to be a rather powerful earth witch." Understatement, thy name is Giles. Giles could only hope these fools never hurt Xander. He honestly didn't know if there was anything ... or anyone ... that could stop Willow's response. "Watcher is myself. Souled Vamp refers to Spike." Well, it did in this case, though at one time it had referred to Angel.

"And the rather ... inventive threats?" Snape added, sneering at the memory.

That brought out a touch of the Ripper, Giles' eyes going cold and dead. "Quite real. Make no mistake, gentlemen. Xander, the Slayer, Willow and myself have fought side by side for over a decade. We have stopped more apocalypses than I care to recount, and faced some of the most heinous, evil creatures in existence. To harm any one of us will bring the wrath of the rest home to roost. The long and the short of it, gentlemen, is that your Dark Lord's days are quite numbered. He just doesn't know it yet."

Dumbledore and Snape looked at each other, then Dumbledore nodded. "I thank you for the information." He said finally.

"My pleasure. If you have need of further information, this is the address you can contact me at." Giles handed over a slip of paper.

"Again, my thanks." Dumbledore said, taking the piece of paper and putting it in a pocket to read once they got back to Hogwarts.

"As I have duties to which I must attend, good afternoon gentlemen." Giles left money for his tea, then got up and rose and walked calmly down the street.

July 25, Hogwarts

Dumbledore had much to consider once he and Snape returned to Hogwarts. Mr. Harris' employment with the Watchers had been confirmed, as had their commitment to interfering with the situation. While what, precisely, a muggle could do to assist Harry continued to elude Dumbledore, it had been made rather clear that such was possible. It would seem that Mr. Harris' presence at Hogwarts this coming year was unavoidable. Time to consider to what use the young man could be put.

Worse news awaited him when he sat down. A missive from Fudge demanding (not asking) that a member of the Ministry be placed as DADA professor. Dumbledore let out a tired sigh. Umbridge was a ... most unpleasant woman. He could only hope she was actually capable of teaching.

It never even occurred to him that with all his titles and power, he could easily have told Fudge to go take a hike. But then, it never had occurred to him to force the issue of adequate instruction at Hogwarts, had it?

In his dungeon, Snape was doing his own considering. Despite his snarky comment about Harris being a Gryffindor, he did not truly get that sense from the man. Oh, the boy had more than a few of that idiotic house's qualities, but there was a darker, harder edge to the boy than any dyed-in-the-wool Gryffindor ever had.

Snape was beginning to suspect that Harris, whatever his other qualities, had a healthy dollop of true Slytherin in him. And that was enough to make Snape cautious. In a conflict, Gryffindors would bluster and shout and pound their chests. Hufflepuffs would endure ,and if you pushed too far, mob you. Ravenclaws would try to settle a dispute with logic, but a Slytherin? A Slytherin smiled in your face and then destroyed you utterly when your back was turned. Quietly. Even if it took years to do it. Snape had enough enemies to be dealing with. Adding yet more was not high on his to-do list.

The coming year was going to be ... interesting.

July 26 The Cottage

That day featured a bit of a break from the pattern of the last week. Dobby approached Xander just after breakfast.

"Mister Xander sir? Dobby is talking to the house-elves at Hogwarts. They is telling Dobby that Dumbledore sir is wanting to contact Mister Xander sir."

Xander grinned. He'd been wondering how long it'd take. "Would you be willing to ferry letters back and forth? I really don't want to give him a chance to figure out where we're at."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Dobby is more than happy to help Mister Xander sir."

"Cool. Tell Dumbledore to write a letter and give it to you. Whatever he gives you, make sure there's no wizard-magic on it before you bring it to us." Ink and parchment did not require magic, and Xander would not put it past Dumbledore, just yet, to try something sneaky.

Dobby nodded firmly, his expression saying that if Dumbledore was dumb enough to try something, he'd regret it, then popped out.

They'd been downstairs for about half an hour when the next change arrived.

"Hallo the house! Anyone home?" The voice was somewhat muffled by distance and the closed basement door, but it was unmistakably Willow.

"Downstairs, Red!" Spike yelled.

A few moments later, Willow came down the stairs, followed, much to Xander's shock, by Buffy. And ... some sort of ... thing ... Buffy was carrying. Big, made of metal, almost looked like a part of a wall frame.

"Willow? Buff? Not that I'm not happy to see you guys, but what the heck?" Xander asked, heading over.

Willow strangled him with a hug. "Full moon preparations." She said. "It's not until the tenth, but the sooner we get things set up, the better."

That was all the explanation she needed to give. Xander very nearly smacked his head against a wall. He'd forgotten about that rather important bit of information in all the busy-ness the last week. "Oh. Duh. Cage, right?"

"Yep. The sections are big enough to be unwieldy, hence the Buffster."

"Hey, I am so not a pack mule!" Buffy mock-complained. She set the section of cage against a wall, then gave Xander a hug of her own.

"Buff ... " Xander wheezed. "Need to breathe!" Buffy immediately loosened the hug a bit and Xander let out a whoosh, returned the hug, and then extracted himself.

"There's really ... " Remus started, clearly having heard them. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

Xander waved him off. "Remus, this will be far, far from the first time I've wolf-sat. We've got it down to a fine art these days." He walked over and gripped Remus' arm. "You really kinda need to get it through your head that the whole werewolf thing doesn't phase us in the least."

Remus' mouth twisted a little.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Wizarding world's full of asshats." Xander said. "Damnfool idiots. So you get furry a couple nights a month. So the heck what? It's no big. Not like you run around biting people or anything."

"Anyway, there's more panels for the cage upstairs. Shouldn't take more than an hour or two to put it together." Buffy said.

"I'm not sure something like that ... " Remus started.

Buffy laughed. "These bars are certified Slayer-proof. Trust me when I say you're not going to be able to get out when you go all wolfy."

It did indeed take them only about an hour or two to set the cage up in the furthest corner of the big basement. Remus remained highly embarrassed and uncomfortable the entire time, despite Sirius taking him aside and having a bit of a word with him.

Willow and Buffy didn't stay, heading out shortly after the cage was set up. It took until after lunch to get everyone's mind back on the program.


	13. School Conferences and Gringotts

School Conferences and Gringotts

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 29, The Cottage

A few days after Willow and Buffy's arrival, Xander got a letter via Dobby from Dumbledore telling him he would be filling in as teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, as the usual teacher had 'vitally important business' elsewhere. Since the thought of Spike teaching a class induced hysterical laughter (from both Xander and Spike), Spike would be pretending to be a new janitor, which would allow him to tail Harry from class to class, ensuring no one got a cheap shot in or somehow managed to kidnap the poor kid. They'd both been invited back to the castle to meet Xander's new colleagues.

The meeting was held in a good-sized room with a big table. Which was a good thing, because all the teachers were present.

Xander pretty much hated Umbridge, the new DADA professor, on sight. She had Xander grinding his teeth and making mental comparisons to Snyder. Even just sitting there and not saying a word, she exuded an air of smarmy, self-righteous cruelty and malice, though he was amused to see there was a solid dollop of distaste at who, or more precisely what, she was sitting next to ... a ghost.

Binns the ghost was bland, boring, and pretty oblivious. He couldn't seem to keep his colleague's names straight, though him calling Dumbledore Dippet gave Xander a chuckle, mostly because he misheard it the first time and thought Binns had called Dumbledore a dip.

Trelawney was just plain insane, as far as Xander could tell, and had him snickering under his breath. The clothes, the glasses, the distinctly spacy air. Yeah. Nothing at all amusing about that. Or the way she talked. Nope. Not at all.

Babbling, Burbage, Hooch, Pince, Sinistra, and Vector seemed pretty ok, though Xander got the distinct feeling Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor, was less than up to date when it came to 'muggles'. Pince was ... well, she was a librarian. They all tended to be rather a bit protective of their books. Pomphrey, he made a note to talk to later, both to see if there was anything she could do to assist with Sirius' recovery and to figure out whether or not she'd said anything to Dumbledore about Harry's condition, which she HAD to have noticed at some point in the last four years, as often as the kid seemed to find himself in her infirmary.

The most interesting, though, were the three Heads of House he hadn't met yet ... Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall. Xander had a strong suspicion that Sprout was a more than passable earth witch as well as wand-witch. Anyone who could handle the sorts of plants she did so effortlessly pretty much had to be. Flitwick was an exceedingly likeable (and slightly excitable) fellow who seemed to be very on the easygoing and inoffensive side. But there was something about him that made Xander keep a close eye on him. Not that he was an enemy or any such thing, just a sense that there was more there than met the eye. McGonagall was ... well, quite a woman. Stern and no-nonsense, with a definite air of 'you do NOT want to mess with me' that probably stood her in very good stead corralling a school full of energetic, mischievous kids. She was also noticeably frosty with Dumbledore. Xander wondered more than a bit what that was about. As for the only Head of House he'd met before now, Snape seemed content to sit, arms crossed over his chest, and watch the mayhem as it unfolded with a faint sneer on his face.

Things got a bit interesting when Xander and Spike were introduced. That Spike was actually a vampire was not being mentioned, Then Dumbledore introduced Xander. At which point Umbridge started in.

"Forgive me, but I'm not quite sure I understand how a muggle could teach a class." She said, in a voice that grated on Xander's nerves.

Xander smirked mentally, slouched back as if he hadn't a care in the world, and gave Umbridge a wholly unconcerned look. He'd not been too terribly surprised at the amount of crossover between his world and this one. The Wizarding world was aware of a good number of demonic creatures, though in most cases they had different names than the ones Xander had learned. Thanks to Remus, Xander had discovered that he had quite a bit of accurate knowledge on a range of creatures in the Wizarding world that weren't demonic in origin as well, but were sometimes encountered in the demon-hunting gig. He might not have a NEWT in CoMC, but he knew more than enough to manage for the short amount of time they'd be here.

"I'm a demon hunter by trade, Madame Umbridge. I've encountered quite a few magical creatures in my travels." Ok, so that was ... half a lie. He'd never actually seen most of the creatures, he just knew about them. She, though, did not need to know that.

"Fawkes has consented to work with Mr. Harris for some of his classes." Dumbledore said.

"And I intend to cover unicorns, basilisks, the various types of flying 'horses', dragons and acromantulas." He and Spike were going to have fun nabbing one of those from the forest for show-and-tell.

Umbridge hemmed a few times, then almost visibly brightened. "But however shall a muggle maintain discipline in the classroom?"

That made Xander laugh outright. "Madam, trust me. Discipline won't be a problem."

Umbridge didn't quite seem to know what to say to that, and subsided into silence. The rest of the meeting had been pretty tame. Arranging schedules for nighttime hallway patrol and Hogsmeade visits, mostly. Xander spent the bulk of the time trying desperately not to laugh because Spike was whispering commentary on most of the people around the table, their outfits, the way they spoke, and whatever else struck his fancy. Xander kicked him under the table. Three times. Didn't stop him of course. If anything, it just encouraged him. Finally, the meeting broke up, and people started heading out. To Xander's surprise, McGonagall headed over towards him.

"If there is any way I can assist you with young Mr. Potter, please let me know." She said quietly. "I tried to stop Dumbledore from leaving him with those ... people, but he refused to listen to me. I have often regretted not trying to force the issue." Her mouth thinned. "Since your intervention, I have been reiterating my displeasure with the Headmaster."

Xander could just bet. "I appreciate the offer." He said. "And if there's anything you can do, we'll let you know." He promised.

July 30, The Cottage

The following day, Dobby arrived with Harry and Hermione's Hogwarts letters. Hermione's held a prefect badge. She was, rather understandably, thrilled, but when the initial excitement died down, and she realized Harry did not have a prefect badge, she frowned.

"But who else could Dumbledore have given it to? No one would listen to Neville, and he's really the best choice left." Hermione asked.

"I'll bet you ten galleons he gave it to Ron." Harry said, setting his letter down.

"Ron? Oh, honestly! I know he's our friend, Harry, but he'd make a really poor prefect." Hermione pointed out. "What are we going to do?"

"About Ron? I honestly don't know. A lot's going to depend on how he acts when we meet up. If he blows up and accuses us ... me ... of betraying him again ... " Harry shrugged. "I'm not going to put up with it again, Hermione."

"No, and you shouldn't have to, though if he does blow up, it's going to make things awkward."

"Tell me about it." Harry sighed again and gently thumped his head on the table.

"All you can do is give him a chance, pup." Sirius said. "And maybe one of us could give him a talking to."

"I'd planned on doing that anyway." Xander admitted. "Though what gets said will depend on just how much of a git he's being at the time."

Harry sighed, then gave himself a shake. "So, how are we going to handle the shopping? I don't have my key."

Both Sirius and Remus went absolutely rigid. "You don't." Sirius said, his voice suddenly deadly cold. "Have the key to your vault."

Harry was slightly wide-eyed. "Ummm ... no? Never did. Hagrid had it first year. Mrs. Weasley had it second year, and has had it since, I think."

Sirius was turning some rather interesting colors. Red, purple and white all featured in turns as he, apparently, fought to keep from verbally exploding all over the place.

Harry gave Remus a wide-eyed look. "I take it me not having the key is bad?"

"More like anyone other than you or your guardian having it is bad." Remus said, his voice oddly flat, as if he too was fighting to keep his calm. At least he was having a bit more success at it, in that he wasn't turning interesting colors. "Given that Sirius was in jail and you were with the Dursleys, they ought to have had it, but since Hagrid had it, I'm betting Dumbledore kept it."

"Son of a bitch." Xander growled quietly. "And because he's Dumbledore, no one said a word about Hagrid or Mrs. Weasley having it because he's Dumbledore, and probably came up with some weird explanation that the goblins or whoever bought, hook line and sinker."

"So what do we do?" Harry wanted to know.

Sirius managed to get control of his temper enough to respond. "I'm still your godfather, kiddo, which means I am your guardian, despite Dumbledore sticking you with the Dursleys, and under wizard law, what I say goes as far as you're concerned until you reach your majority. All I'd have to do is sign a few papers and the existing key would be confiscated, and returned to you. And since Gringotts is goblin territory, not Ministry, I can walk in there and under goblin law, no one can touch me, since I'm not actually a criminal." Then Sirius gave Harry a long look. "You don't know about the Potter vault, do you? Or the Potter Mansion."

Harry got a bit big-eyed again for a moment, then his eyes narrowed in anger. "Another vault? A mansion?"

Sirius muttered something indistinct under his breath. "Yeah. The trust vault is just that. With the war and everything, your parents wanted to make sure that if the worst happened, meaning I had died and your guardianship passed to someone else, you'd be well taken care of finances-wise, since you won't be able to access the Potter Vault until you're of age and only a Potter by blood or marriage or a godparent acting in loco parentis can access the Potter Vault. Family vaults, at least at the level the Blacks and Potters used, are pretty heavily protected. Part of the magical contract involved in marriage involves keying the new spouse into the family vault. That's part of the reason why there's no such thing as divorce in our world. messing about with wards is expensive and time consuming. It's also part of the reason being a godparent is such a big deal."

"So where's the key to the vault then?" Harry wanted to know.

"The backup key is in the Black vault. I put it there for safekeeping, since the same rules apply to the Black vault as the Potter one. The key your parents had would have transported itself to Gringotts seconds after they died for safekeeping until you were old enough to use it." Sirius told him.

"And the ... mansion?"

"Is in Inverness, overlooking Sleat Sound." Sirius sighed and rubbed his face. "I would have told you, Harry, but I thought you knew!"

Harry looked over at Remus, who was nodding agreement. "Could we move there?" Harry wanted to know.

"Honestly, no. The place is too well-known. People would notice if they couldn't remember where the Potter Mansion was at. With my place, well, my mother was never one for company, and the place has been unplottable for generations, so most people had no clue where it was, which meant not much of anyone would notice that they suddenly couldn't remember where it was at. And we would HAVE to hide the place, to conceal that you'd gone to live there."

Harry thought that over for a minute, then nodded. "Ok, so, we get you to Gringotts and get me control of my trust vault."

"We're going to have to be careful." Xander said. "I'll bet solid money Dumbledore is watching the bank, knowing you need to get money to get school supplies."

That got nods around the table as they considered options. Then Dobby popped in. "Harry Potter sir? Dobby is being able to take Mr. Black sir and Harry Potter sir to see the goblins. He is being able to take you right to the front doors, sir."

Harry (and Xander) grinned hugely. "That's brilliant, Dobby. I really appreciate it." Harry told him.

"Can you manage a third, Dobby? I'd like to go along just in case things get unpredictable, if it's at all possible." Xander wanted to know.

Dobby gave a determined nod. "Dobby is being able to take three with him, Mr. Xander sir."

"Great. It's a plan then. We'd better get ready. Harry, go get your disguise stuff. A middle-aged guy, a brown-haired kid and a dog won't garner anywhere near the attention 'Harry Potter' would."

Harry nodded and hurried off upstairs to get ready. He came down a few minutes later wearing the brown wig and, in place of a baseball cap to hide the fact it was a wig, a wizard's pointed hat. Makeup hid the scar on his forehead. It was still visible if you looked very, very closely, but anyone looking that closely was liable to get a boot to certain sensitive parts of their anatomy from Xander.

"Harry, remind me to drag you to an optician and invest in some contacts. Regular ones and colored." Xander commented.

Harry actually grinned. "I like that idea. Losing my glasses every time I get knocked on my butt is a pain." Then, with a sigh. "And being able to walk around without people staring at me is really nice, so anything that helps with that is good!"

"I can just bet." Xander said. Sirius shifted to dog form at that point, reminding Xander to ask him what that trick was all about, because it looked really cool.

Dobby walked over. "You is getting a good grip on each other, and Dobby is doing the same. Then we is going."

July 30, Gringotts

Xander tucked Harry under one arm, felt Harry tangle his hands in Xander's shirt, and got a good, solid grip on Sirius, then Dobby grabbed hold of Xander and the world promptly went insane. At least from Xander's point of view. Willow's teleport bubbles were ... fairly non-traumatic. You stood there, the bubble formed, it popped and you were somewhere else. This ... this was like riding every amusement park ride in existence all at the same time while falling-down drunk and getting squeezed around the middle by a frightened Slayer.

Somehow he managed to force himself to move the second they 'landed', lurching the few feet to the door and the apparent safety (for Sirius) of the bank proper. Once they were actually inside, Xander leaned against a wall and concentrated on breathing, not losing his breakfast all over the nice clean floor, and trying to get the world to stop spinning for a few minutes.

When he could finally see and think straight again, he took some comfort from the fact that Harry looked a bit green around the gills. "Ok, can I just say that that was less than fun?" Xander commented.

"Agreed." Harry said, straightening up with a bit of effort. He glanced at dog-Sirius, who at least appeared to be unaffected. "I think I kinda hate you a little right now."

Sirius gave an amused woof.

Xander finally started looking around, and gave the goblins a long look, grateful they weren't on a hellmouth because if he'd seen any in the 'dale, he'd have chopped first, asked questions never. With fangs like that, it was always better to be safe than sorry on the hellmouth. They didn't seem to have garnered too much attention, he noticed. Oh, a few people had glanced over, but it had all been idle curiosity, and they'd soon looked away to continue their business.

Harry led them up to one of the tellers. "I need to talk to the manager of the Potter accounts." He told the goblin.

"One moment please." The goblin said in an utterly bored tone. He turned and motioned a waiting goblin forward. "Griphook will take you."

Harry blinked, then glanced over at the goblin, wondering what the chance was that the same goblin that took him to his vault the first time would be the one taking him to the account manager. He'd not recognized Griphook ... one goblin looked very much like another to his eyes, but he did remember the name.

Griphook led them through an arch on the opposite side of the big lobby from the access to the vaults. There was a long corridor with a number of doors at regular intervals. Each one seemed much the same as the rest, with no visible means of telling what was beyond each door.

Griphook stopped at one of the doors, knocked, opened the door, and then walked away, leaving the trio to head in on their own. The office was, surprisingly (at least to Xander, who was used to human bigwigs and their tendency towards big, impressive offices) plain. Aside from desk, chair, and lamp for the goblin, there were two chairs, a fireplace and a number of wall sconces for candles to provide light. Everything was quite utilitarian. The goblin behind the desk looked old to Xander's eyes, a bit stooped, very wrinkled, with next to no hair. Whether or not he actually was old, however, was anyone's guess.

"Mr. Potter. I have been waiting for you to wish to confer with me." The goblin said. "I am Zagnot." He glanced at Harry, then at Xander. "I am afraid that there is little I can do for you without the presence of your guardian, Mr. Potter, and this young man is not he."

Sirius shifted to human. "Good thing I came along then, isn't it?" He asked. "This is Alexander Harris. He has both my and Harry's permission to be here for the discussions that will be happening today."

"Very well then. What can I do for you?" Zagnot asked.

"We need to remove the Potter trust vault key from Dumbledore's possession. It was originally given to him when the Potters went into hiding against the chance both they and myself would die, and someone else would be raising Harry. He has taken that trust rather lightly."

"Indeed." Zagnot agreed. "We at Gringotts were aware of this, but unable to act without direct orders from yourself." Zagnot snapped his fingers and a thick sheaf of parchment appeared, along with quill and ink. "Please sign these documents."

Sirius lost no time in doing so, signing off on the bottom line with all haste. Seconds after he had done so, a familiar small gold key appeared on Zagnot's desk, making Xander's eye go wide and Harry sputter.

"How ... ?" Harry asked.

"The keys, Mr. Potter, are goblin made, and many protections are woven into them in the making. Among them is one that allows us to repossess the key no matter where it may be if it is lost or stolen."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"I'd like to see statements from the vault, please." Sirius said.

Another snap of the fingers and an even longer sheaf of parchment appeared. Sirius took it and glanced through it. Eventually he sat back with a sigh of relief. "For a wonder, the bastard didn't try to steal any of the money." He said.

Zagnot gave a nasty smile. "He is well aware of the penalty he would have paid if he had done so. Either yourself or Mr. Potter would have discovered it, allowing us to take action."

Xander rather liked these guys. Ruthless and efficient. He could get behind that.

Sirius' grin very nearly matched Zagnot's. "Too right. We're going to want to visit the Black and Potter Vaults. I have no idea if James and Lily left anything special behind, but with things being the way they were, I'd not be surprised in the least."

Zagnot nodded, and snapped his fingers again. "Griphook will take you to the vault." He said. A few moments later, Griphook opened the office door. Sirius nodded to Zagnot, and the three of them headed out.

Xander rather quickly decided the carts were nearly as bad as Dobby's form of transportation. It really didn't help that they seemed to have a long way to go. Both Xander and Harry had to stay in the cart at both stops since neither of them could access either vault (yet, in Harry's case).

When they stopped at the Potter vault, Harry brandished the shopping list. "Sirius, I managed to snitch Hermione's list before we left. Can we get her stuff for her? She can pay me back later, if she insists."

Sirius didn't have a problem with that, and headed into the vault. He came out of the vault a few minutes later with a small, plain wood box that he handed to Harry. "Found it right by the door. Looks like it's got a couple of letters in it." He told Harry, his voice slightly shaky.

Harry took the box, his hands shaking a bit, but his expression more than a little on the angry side. Xander reached over and gripped Harry's shoulder. "You ok?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Sort of." He admitted. "I just ... every time I think we've found the last of the shit he's pulled, we end up finding out it's really only the tip of the iceburg. It's a little hard to take."

Xander didn't have anything he could really say to that, nor did Sirius, though Sirius pulled Harry in under one arm in an effort to comfort his godson.

They made their way topside again, and to keep the various witches and wizards in the lobby from freaking out, Sirius shifted into dog form again before they headed for the door and shopping.

Xander did a quadruple take at his first look at Diagon Alley. Talk about anachronistic. And archaic. He somehow managed not to laugh out loud. While there was, yes, a lot of stuff to see, and some of it was rather interesting, the entire street made Xander think of the middle ages. Dobby popped up beside them.

"Dobby will be ready to take you home whenever you call for him, sirs." He told them, then popped back out of sight.

They hit the stores like a dose of salts. Ollivander's for wand holsters, then Madame Malkins for robes and other necessary wear. They were halfway to the next shop when Xander, who'd been watching their surroundings under the guise of rubbernecking like a first-time tourist, realized they were being followed. The follower wasn't all that hard to notice. Older, balding, weird fake eye, wood leg, and looked like he'd been through even more wars than Xander had. The guy was trying for casual, but not exactly managing it. They'd gone through another two stores before Xander discovered their second follower. She was a lot harder to notice. Average height, average weight, plain brown hair.

"We're being followed." He told Harry and dog-Sirius quietly once they got into the next store. This one was very stinky and full of animal parts. Eugh. "Old guy with a fake eye and leg, and a brown-haired gal that looks maybe eighteen."

"Fake eye and leg? That's got to be Moody." Harry supplied, then frowned. "He's friends with Dumbledore."

"Right. Keep a sharp eye out, then." Xander said.

But neither Moody nor the girl ever actually approached them. They simply followed at a distance and watched. The moment they finished their purchases, Xander found a quiet corner and called Dobby. Moments after that, the trio were on their way back to the cottage.

Once there, and once Sirius had shifted back to human and Xander had again convinced his stomach (and its contents) that staying inside his body was a good idea, they headed inside.

"I'll bet good money the girl was Nymphadora Tonks." Sirius supplied. "Moody used to be an Auror. Trained quite a few people. Including Tonks. Dumbledore mentioned them being partners before you guys showed up and life got even more interesting than it had been to start with."

"Makes sense, if they were partners. I'm just glad they didn't try anything funny." Xander said.

Harry nodded, and he and Sirius headed upstairs to unload packages.

Xander laughed outright when he heard Hermione's outraged shriek a few minutes later.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU HAD BETTER LET ME PAY YOU BACK!"


	14. Discoveries and Departures

Discoveries and Departures

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

July 30, The Cottage

Two hours later, just before dinner, Harry let out a god-almighty shriek. "SIRIUS!"

There was a mad, concerted dash for the stairs that degenerated, for a few moments, into comedy as four grown men tried to jam themselves through a doorway at more or less the same time. Spike won the initial battle, mostly by dint of being willing to wrest everyone else out of his way with ruthless efficiency, only to get overrun by Sirius himself before he got halfway up the stairs, Xander and Remus hot on his heels.

They didn't quite get what they were expecting. Given that yowl, Xander had been fully expecting Harry's room to have somehow been invaded or something. Instead, they stormed into the room to find Harry sitting on his bed, the box open in front of him, red-eyed from crying and cradling a roll of parchment like it was the Crown Jewels. Hermione had, of course, beaten them in there as she'd been upstairs when Harry had yelled, and was frowning at him rather severely.

"Sweet mother of Merlin! Harry, you scared ten years off me!" Sirius sputtered. "I thought ... "

Harry blinked at them, then abruptly seemed to realize how his yell might have been taken. "Oh, bloody hell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ... " he flailed one hand. "Sorry. Really. I just ... Sirius, look at this! I found it under mom and dad's letters."

Sirius took the roll of parchment, read it, blinked stupidly at it for a moment, then started whooping and dancing a jig around the room. "Bless you, James! Bless you, Lily!"

Now Xander was getting eaten alive by curiosity. He wasn't the only one. Remus looked like he was seriously contemplating forcibly sitting on Sirius to either get his hands on the parchment or get Sirius to actually say something informative. Spike was just looking pissed.

"Look mate, stop acting like a loony berk and tell us what all the racket's about!" Spike demanded.

It still took Sirius a minute to calm down. "This." He waved the parchment, then cradled it gently. "Is a legal document James and Lily had drawn up. After they went under the Fidelius. They couldn't tell who knew their secret, or what the secret was ... but they could, and did, tell who didn't know."

And he handed it over to Remus. Xander peered over his shoulder. In amongst other legalese was a highly interesting sentence. "In these dark times, we trust only the Marauders with our secrets, but neither Remus Lupin nor Sirius Black hold our greatest Secret. If we are betrayed, look to the other Marauder."

"Merlin bless James and Lily indeed." Remus breathed. "It's even notarized by a barrister, which means they had to take a wizard's oath that this was true, and it was validated." He looked up from the document, eyes gleaming, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Harry was looking from Sirius to Remus and back. "Please, please tell me this means what I think it means." He said.

"If you're thinking that little document clears my name six ways from Sunday, you'd be right." Sirius said, a grin even bigger than Remus' on his face. He was also bouncing in place.

"We need to get this to a barrister to be copied ... I'm not about to trust the original in anyone's hands but ours. We're also going to need a barrister to take everyone apart who had a hand in shoving you into Azkaban." Remus said. "I'll head to Diagon Alley first thing in the morning ... it's too late in the day now."

"Fudge is going to have a coronary." Sirius said, looking entirely too happy at the prospect.

"That wasn't all I found." Harry said. "Mom ... somehow, she got the prophecy from Dumbledore. She didn't say how, but she found out what it was."

Xander cocked his head, glancing at the others, then nodded. "Ok, Harry, let's hear what's had Dumbledore's knickers in a knot."

Harry pulled another roll of parchment from the box, scanning through it quickly. "Hang on ... ahhh, here it is. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Spike started snickering. Xander literally facepalmed, shaking his head and muttering under his breath about blind, self-deluded morons. Both Remus and Sirius were inclined to take it a bit more seriously, but even they looked rather baffled. Hermione openly scoffed.

"Oh, honestly! That could mean a thousand different things!" She sputtered. "It doesn't say which dark lord, when the person was born, other than the seventh month ... which could be the seventh month as counted by /any/ calendar! And born to someone who thrice defied him? Defiance can mean just about anything! And a 'mark' can be nearly anything too! And the end bit was entirely contradictory! Neither can live while the other survives? How is that supposed to work? The whole thing is utter rubbish! I mean, I've always known Divination was a rather wooly subject, but this is ridiculous."

Xander pulled his face out of his hand and looked over at Spike. "I like her. I like her a lot."

"You tell 'im, ducks. That's the barmiest piece of shite prophecy I've ever heard." Spike said, still sounding highly amused.

"What I want to know is why or how Dumbledore decided this mess had to do with Voldemort and Harry, because really, there is nothing anywhere in that mess that would indicate anything of the sort." Xander put in.

"It is really painfully vague." Sirius agreed. "I mean, there's really not a solid piece of information you can lean on in the entire mess except for seventh month, and as Hermione pointed out, that's still got interpretations. Just not quite as many as the rest."

Remus, however, was looking more and more pissed off. "If it's the last thing I ever do, Dumbledore will pay for this." He growled.

That had Sirius blinking at him. "Moony?"

"Don't you get it? This piece of shit is what got Voldemort after James, Lily, and Harry. This is why James and Lily died. This is why Alice and Frank are permanent residents of St. Mungo's. Dumbledore decided this had to do with Voldemort. I'll bet anything he found a way to leak part of it to Voldemort, ensuring Voldemort thought it had to do with him as well. Which ensured Voldemort would try to keep it from coming true."

Hermione gave Remus a horrified look, but she was nowhere near disagreeing.

Sirius was starting to look pissed as Remus drew the dots. "Harry never was the key to beating Voldemort. Dumbledore just tried to shoehorn someone into the role, and latched onto Neville and Harry because Alice and Lily were both due late July or early August. Because he needed a way to stop Voldemort, since he couldn't seem to manage it himself. When both boys were born at the tail-end of July, thus both eligible for this crock of a prophecy, he baited the hooks and waited to see which line Voldemort bit. Hey presto, Chosen One who will off Voldie. He as good as cast Avada Kedavra and Crucio himself." Sirius ran a hand through his hair in distress. "Merlin. And he had to have known that once Lily and James were gone, I'd have taken you and Harry and fled to the far corners of the world to keep Harry safe. But he needed his shiny new supposed weapon under his control, the better to brainwash him, so he never said boo about me not getting a trial."

"And he convinced me to stay away to protect Harry." Remus added, his voice more than a touch bitter. "After all, not only am I a dark creature and therefore dangerous, but I could lead the remaining Death Eaters right to Harry's door."

"And he didn't exactly try all that hard after Voldemort was gone to get them all tossed into Azkaban where they'd be far less of a threat, thus ensuring that 'keeping Harry safe' was a necessity." Sirius added.

Xander growled. "Right. I'd planned on it anyway, but once Voldie's dead? Dumbledore's going to wish he were as lucky."

"So how you want to play it, pet?" Spike wanted to know.

"For now, we just get Sirius' name clear. We otherwise act like we haven't a clue. As much sense as what we're putting together makes, we don't know for sure that's how it actually happened. Personally, I think that if it didn't happen exactly how we just laid it out, it came pretty damn close. But we have no proof, so we play dumb unless he tries to pull another idiot move or we get the proof of all this. At which point we go ahead with Operation Destroy Dumbledore. While I prefer taking my baddies on one at a time, I'm not at all averse to two-for-one specials."

"Too right mate." Spike said with a feral grin.

"And I think we're going to have to take McGonagall up on her offer of assistance." Xander admitted. "Because I really don't want Harry anywhere near Dumbledore if we can manage it ... so Harry, if something comes up and you can't get to me or Spike, go to her. NOT Dumbledore, no matter what."

Harry looked at Xander like he was nuts. "After all this, you actually think I'm going to go to Dumbledore with anything? Hah!"

July 31, The Cottage

Next morning, Remus left immediately after breakfast with the all-important document in hand. He didn't return until almost dinnertime, but he returned triumphant. "Got it copied. Though we might have a problem. He's going to try to find you, Sirius, in order to work all the legal stuff ... but I have no idea if owls can find us here, and this has to be done by owl because it's official legal business."

"Send Hedwig." Xander said. "We can take her out just beyond the edge of the wards, and she can land just outside them, where one of us can pick her up again."

"Sounds good." Remus agreed. "Harry?"

"She's out hunting at the moment, but I'll ask her when she gets in." Harry confirmed.

Dinner was special, as it was Harry's birthday, and consisted of all his favorites. Remus had used the opportunity of a second trip to Diagon Alley to buy birthday presents unobserved (Sirius had gotten the money for them the day before, and given it to Remus). Hedwig took it upon herself to go to both Hogwarts and the Burrow to collect Ron and Hagrid's presents, as well, though she gave Molly's a skip. That just proved to Xander she was a heck of a lot smarter than any normal owl, since Hedwig getting anywhere near Molly risked her being tracked and Harry found. Dobby had also made a cake, so they had quite a fun, if small, birthday party.

August 1-31

August passed in a cloud of frantic activity. Sirius was in near-constant contact with a lawyer, building an iron-clad case against the people who'd shafted him so badly. Sadly, a few of them were now dead, but their names were still going to be dragged through the mud, and the ones still living were going to be hammered as hard as possible. They were, evidently, waiting to wave the proof of his innocence in people's faces until they had all their ducks in a row.

The researching, as well as the training, both physical and magical, continued, and all four wizards improved considerably. The full moon on the tenth seemed to finally ease Remus' discomfort and worries, as Xander and Spike were very blase' about it, and Sirius had been only too happy to curl up in the cage with Remus as Padfoot.

By the end of the month, Sirius had ceased to resemble an animated skeleton, and Harry had filled out considerably as well. Remus had lost most of the tired, worn look, and had as much energy as Spike usually did, much to Xander's consternation and amusement.

Hermione and Willow finally got in contact ... and it was every bit as scary as Xander had feared. Long screeds went back and forth, filled with questions, answers, and speculations. Xander took Harry on a visit to an opthamologist and got Harry fitted with contacts.

In the week before September first, Xander, Spike, Harry and Hermione packed up in preparation for going to Hogwarts in between the usual rounds of training and research. A couple days before they were to head for King's Cross, Spike presented both kids with knives and sheaths.

"You keep these on you, yeah? 'm gonna be watchin' your backs, and so's bug-eyes" meaning Dobby "but even we can't be everywhere at once."

Harry and Hermione accepted the knives solemnly, promising to keep them on their persons at all times. Spike left for Hogwarts with Dobby that evening, bringing his and Xander's trunks. Xander planned to ride the train with Harry and Hermione, both as protection and in the hopes of getting a chance to talk to Ron.

September 1, King's Cross

Finally, it was September First, and there was a round of hugs between Sirius, Remus, Harry and Hermione. There was also a last, rather reproachful goodbye and reassurance between Harry and Hedwig, who was staying behind to ferry letters for Sirius, much to her evident displeasure. Harry spent several minutes reminding and reassuring her she could come see him anytime she wanted, and that she could return to him full time as soon as Sirius' business was finished. Xander was more sure than ever that the bird was sentient, watching Hedwig's antics. That done, the kids and Xander piled into the car and headed for London. Privately, Xander thought it was a bit ridiculous to go all that way when they were actually about an hour from Hogwarts already, even if he was wanting to talk to Ron, but this was the way things worked, and so this is the way they did it.

King's Cross was a madhouse. In more than one way. Xander could not even begin to figure out how no one twigged to something weird going on when he spotted no less than five or six different families with owls in cages. And two with cats, though they at least were slightly less noticeable. For their animal companions. Every last adult wizard in the place was dressed in either in full wizard regalia or in truly bizarre attempts at dressing like a 'muggle', which somehow managed not to attract any attention at all. Most of the kids were in wizard-wear too, but not all. Some, the muggleborns, Xander presumed, were dressed in normal 'muggle' clothing.

Muttering about global Sunnydale Syndrome, Xander followed Harry and Hermione through the 'wall'. They didn't get more than five feet when they got mobbed by a sea of redheads.


	15. Weasley, Malfoy, and Umbridge, Oh My!

Weasley, Malfoy, and Umbridge, Oh My!

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 1, King's Cross

Xander caught himself reaching for, of all things, the stake tucked in the small of his back as what had to be the Weasleys converged on them and huffed a laugh at himself. Yeah, like that'd help against this lot.

Mrs. Weasley led the charge. Poor Harry backed away from her right into Xander, not that he blamed Harry. Mrs. Weasley bore too uncomfortable a resemblance to Willow-on-a-rampage for Xander's comfort. and he gripped Harry's shoulder in reassurance.

"Harry! Where have you been? We've been frantic with worry! The Headmaster's been looking everywhere for you! When your key disappeared I thought you had died! What on earth have you been doing?" Mrs. Weasley half asked, half scolded.

While she ranted, the Weasley kids rushed in, their voices overlapping Mrs. Weasley's and each other's, making the initial rush of greeting hard to parse out, but not impossible for someone used to high-speed babbling. Xander did wonder if there was anyone in the entire station who had not heard Mrs. Weasley, but he doubted it.

"Should have invited us!" Said one of the twins.

"You know we love a good prank!" Said the other.

"And this one tops anything we've done!" They said together.

"I got made Prefect, Harry!" That was Ron, waving his shiny badge. From his expression, he wanted to do some yelling at Harry himself, but had evidently decided not to compete with his mother. Probably a wise move, Xander reflected. He caught Harry's grimace and the look he shot Hermione at the news.

Ginny made liberal use of her elbows against her brothers to get to the front where she could see and frowned at Harry. "You really should have owled us, Harry." She said.

At that point, Molly aimed herself and her ire at Xander. "And just who might you be? Whoever you are, you've no business meddling in affairs that are none of your business!"

"My name is Alexander Harris. And Harry's situation is, actually, my affair." The minute they'd found out about the prophecy, the Watchers had the right to step in, since prophecies were their bailiwick. Way too many of the damn things dealt with the end of the world thanks to demons or hellgods or whatnot. Sometime in the past, the whole 'in event of world-ending prophecy, Watchers get to do whatever is necessary' got put in a worldwide contract. And while the whole Voldemort thing was stretching 'world ending' until it squeaked, it still worked, because if Voldie got to keep playing, things would get really, really bad for more than just the wizarding world.

"You expect me to believe a muggle can succeed where our best and brightest have failed?" Molly snapped.

"No, I don't expect you to believe it, but that's what's gonna happen." Xander said.

"Really now, that's quite enough. Harry, you really shouldn't allow this ... person ... to fill your head with a bunch of nonsense. Headmaster Dumbledore is the only one you-know-who ever feared. He knows what he's doing."

That comment backfired rather spectacularly. "Yeah, I'm quite sure Dumbledore does know what he's doing. And that's the problem. Excuse me." Harry snapped, sounding every bit as pissed off as he looked. He pushed through the Weasleys towards the train. The kids, including Hermione, all followed him, some of them looking stunned, others asking questions.

"Well, I never! I hope you're happy! The Headmaster is Harry's only chance at figuring out how to defeat you-know-who!" Molly spat

"Actually, I don't know who." Xander said. "Unless you mean Voldemort?" Molly and Arthur both flinched. Xander was briefly glad the kids weren't here to overhear this. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. That's just pathetic." he said, trying not to laugh. "It's a name, people. Get over it."

"I hardly expect you to understand!" Molly snapped, regaining her equilibrium.

"Oh, I understand all right." Xander snarled. He had no patience whatever for people who knew evil existed but did nothing about it. "Some crazy idiot with delusions of grandeur decides to try to play god and starts torturing and killing people ... and you lot all run and hide under your beds and let yourselves get killed, expecting a now fifteen year old boy to protect your pathetic lives. You make me sick." At least with the demonic world, people didn't freaking know all hell was breaking loose. These people had no such excuse. They'd all of them known what was going down. Sure, Voldemort had power, both magical and otherwise, but he wasn't damn well unkillable or unstoppable.

Molly reared back and took a swing at Xander. Xander caught her wrist, holding it firmly but trying not to hurt her. "Don't. You and pretty much everyone in your generation crapped out of this fight and left it to a child. You lost all say in who deals with that fight and how. You also lost any right to outrage or indignation when you get called on your bullshit. You left the mess for Harry to clean up, so you don't get to bitch about how he's doing the cleaning." By that point, Molly was apparently, trying to kill him with a look. And doing a not-half-shabby job of it, as the look rivaled the one Snape had given Xander when they'd met. Xander let her hand go. "If you'll excuse me, I have a train to catch."

He turned and headed for the Express. Behind him, he heard Arthur's voice for the first time. He couldn't hear what the man said, but whatever it had been, Molly was at least not trying to hex him. Xander made a mental note to thank the man later. And possibly talk to him. He'd noticed that Arthur hadn't joined in on Molly's yell-fest, and he'd had a rather thoughtful look on his face to boot.

He boarded the train and started hunting for Harry and Hermione. They weren't exactly hard to find. There was a full-on row going in one of the compartments, Harry and Hermione on one side, a red-faced Ron on the other. Ginny was nowhere in sight, but the twins were hanging about outside the compartment, evidently watching the argument as a form of entertainment, since neither of them showed any indication of getting involved, on either side.

"I can't believe you! You run off with a virtual stranger, and have everyone running around for over a month trying to figure out where you are, whether you've been kidnapped or just ran away, and show up without so much as an apology? Mum's been worried sick! Ginny had nightmares of you being you-know-who's new playtoy, and you don't bloody care! You bit mum's head off out there!" Ron yelled

"And you're not listening, Ron! I told you, I couldn't write to you. I found stuff out over the summer, Ron. A lot of stuff. Stuff in my own mom's handwriting, that's making me less than trustful of Dumbledore. If I'd written you about any of it, or where I was, your mum would have gone straight to Dumbledore, and you know it!" Harry yelled right back.

"You're mad! Dumbledore ... he's the only one you can trust. He's the only one that can hold Voldemort off!"

"If you knew what we did, Ron, you wouldn't be saying that." Hermione snapped. Her voice was a bit lower than the boys, but not by much.

Ron gave a disgusted wave. "Whatever. I'm out of here. I'm not about to listen to this." And he stomped out.

Hermione sighed. "That went well."

Harry gave her a pained look. "Yeah, no kidding." He glanced out into the corridor at the twins. "So, what about you two?"

Fred and George looked at each other for a moment, then one of the two shrugged.

"We're not sure." Said one.

"What's going on but." Said the other.

"It's been clear for years that."

"Something funny's going on."

"So we're prepared to listen." They finished together.

Hermione had to head up front to meet with the other prefects, so it was left to Harry and Xander to lay out the situation for the twins.

"First." Harry said. "I need your word that you won't speak of this to anyone without my permission."

Again, the twins looked at each other, clearly conferring, then, in unison. "We promise not to tell anyone."

Harry glanced over at Xander. Xander eyed the two boys for a moment, then nodded.

"Ok, so ... here's what we've got so far." Harry said. He proceeded to outline everything. The wards, the tracking charms, the fact Dumbledore never told him he had more to his name than the trust vault. The utterly screwy prophecy and the other suspected but as yet unconfirmed manipulations.

By the time Harry wound down, the twins looked seriously pissed. "We're in." They said in unison. "What do you want us to do?"

Harry gave them a relieved grin. "There's nothing to do at the moment, I don't think." He glanced at Xander.

"We may need you on standby, though. I've got a feeling the new DADA teacher is trouble. Just not sure what sort of trouble yet."

"It's the DADA teacher." Said one twin.

"Of course they're trouble." Said the other

"Only decent one we've had.

"Was Lupin."

Xander chuckled. Things went quiet after that for a little bit, but finally, the compartment door opened.

Xander glanced over, got one good look, and choked on a laugh. No wonder Harry had asked if Spike's last name was Malfoy! Good lord, this kid could pass for Spike's little brother if you didn't know any better. Spike's younger, more pathetic brother. He was trying for Spike's badass attitude and sneer and not exactly making it.

"See something funny, do you?" Draco sneered at Xander.

"No. Just amused at your resemblance to someone I know." Xander said, keeping his voice bland and inoffensive.

Draco evidently opted to ignore him in favor of his usual prey. Bad idea, but Xander wasn't going to clue him in. Yet. "You'd better watch your step this year, Potter. I'm a prefect, and I'll enjoy ensuring you and your mudblood and blood traitor tagalongs ... "

That was as far as he got before Xander intervened. "Apologize. Now."

Draco, of course, sneered at him. "Who are you to tell me what to do?"

"That would be Professor Harris, to you. And unless you want to break every school record by losing your House points and earning detention before you're even at Hogwarts, you will apologize for your atrocious language."

Draco eyed him, eyed Hermione and Harry, then eyed Xander again, before snapping out "Sorry." in what had to be the most insincere tone ever before fleeing for parts unknown.

"Holy shit. No wonder you asked Spike if he was a Malfoy. And can I just say that kid is an asshole?" Xander said.

"Thanks for making him apologize." Hermione was grinning a bit. "I think that's only the second time he's ever been called on his behavior. The first being clear back in first year by Professor McGonagall!"

"About time someone trimmed his sails then, I'd say. Christ, I can't wait to see Spike's face when he sees that kid." Xander grinned.

A bit after that, Ron walked past, clearly headed for another compartment.

"Right. I think that's my cue. Wish me luck." Xander said, getting to his feet.

He followed Ron quite a ways down the train, to what had to be the last compartment. It was empty, and Ron collapsed on one of the seats, arms crossed, clearly miffed and sulking. Xander let him be for a moment or two, then casually walked in and sat down across from him. Ron ignored him rather pointedly. After a few minute's silence, Xander spoke.

"It's not easy, is it?" He asked.

Ron glanced over at him, still angry but also plainly curious. "What isn't?" He wanted to know.

"Being the normal one. The one that gets lost in the shadows cast by the people around you." Xander clarified.

Ron snorted. "What would you know about it?"

"More than you think." Xander said. "Mostly because I pretty much am you, in my own group of friends. I'm the normal guy. The average guy. Everyone else in my circle of friends is smarter, or stronger or faster or can do magic. I hated it for a long time. Was more than a bit of an ass for a while when I was only a couple years older than you are now."

Xander leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, hands dangling. "It's not an easy spot to be in. Everyone around you has so much more going for them, you start wondering what possible use you might be. But after a while, I realized something. That as much as I hated being average guy, as much as I thought my life sucked, one of my closest friends would have quite happily traded places with me in a heartbeat. She's kinda like Harry. When I'm not playing professor, I'm in the demon hunting gig, and my friend is ... well, you know what a Slayer is?"

Ron blinked at him. "Heard of them." He admitted. "Girls that fight demons."

"Right. They also get extra strength and speed to help them in the fight. Thing is, these girls don't get to choose whether or not they become a Slayer. And there's no such thing as retiring from it. This starting to sound familiar yet?"

Ron sighed, but nodded. "A bit, yeah." He admitted.

"And in Harry's case, Ron ... well hell. You may want to be him from time to time, but I'd be willing to bet every bit of money in Gringotts that Harry's had days where he was seriously contemplating selling his soul to be you."

"But why? I'm nothing special at all!"

"Maybe not the way you see it." Xander said. "But you have a family that loves you dearly, and if your mom's any indication, would happily tear anyone dumb enough to hurt you to shreds. Up until Sirius showed up, Harry had no one. The Dursley's are a joke, you know that, you helped rescue him the one time! And as much as Harry cares for Sirius and vice versa, Sirius can't openly take care of Harry because he's kind of wanted for a crime he didn't commit. You'll also be able to live your life without everyone watching every move you make and either worshiping at your feet or accusing you of being the next big bad."

Xander got to his feet. "He needs you as a friend, Ron. More than you realize. It may kind of suck sometimes, being the sidekick, but it's an important job despite that. Think about it." And he walked out of the compartment and back to Harry and Hermione.

Hermione had evidently gone off to patrol, but Harry wasn't alone. There was a somewhat chubby brown-haired boy and a blonde girl with a rather ... vague ... expression on her face sitting across from him

"I'm back." Xander peered at the brown-haired boy a moment. "Neville, right? Neville Longbottom? Harry's mentioned you."

Neville looked a bit pleased. "Yeah, I'm Neville. This is Luna Lovegood."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you." Luna echoed. "Would you like to read a copy of the Quibbler? We've got a rather nice article on Fuzlumps today."

Xander blinked. "No thanks." He said.

Luna went back to reading her upside-down magazine, and Xander glanced over at Harry and Neville, mouthing 'fuzlump' at them. Harry shrugged helplessly. Neville shook his head, looking amused.

The rest of the trip was remarkably quiet, and everyone piled out of the train when it stopped at Hogsmeade.

September 1, Hogwarts

Since Xander had no magic whatever to work the boats, Sinistra had volunteered to do the boat run this year. Spike had taken care of hitching the Thestrals to the carriages. God knew he'd know how, given when he was turned, and Xander sure didn't have the foggiest notion.

The Great Hall was pretty impressive with everything set up, and Xander made his way to the staff table. He knew the second Spike spotted Malfoy. The look of offended outrage was more than a bit amusing. Xander grinned as he sat down next to Spike.

"Spotted your baby brother, huh?"

"Oi! that little shit ain't anything of the sort." Spike groused.

"You sure? He looks like you, acts like you. He even has daddy issues." Xander teased.

"OI! You shut your gob, or I'm tellin' the mutt 'bout the love spell."

Xander cringed. Spike had taken an unholy glee in telling Scooby Tales every time Xander's back was turned after the holy water threat. Sirius had spent a lot of time snickering at him. "Fine. No more comments about him being related."

Eventually everyone was in, and then McGonagall led the first years in. Xander's eyebrows went through his hairline when the exceedingly manky hat moved and sang. "Right. Note to self ... beware of hats." Spike snorted in amusement.

The kids trooped up one by one and put the thing on to be sorted. "Ewww. Have these people never heard of, you know, head lice and things like that? Or just washing the damn hat?" Xander whispered to Spike again.

The food was good. Fortunately there were selections available that were something other than the typical heavy English fare. After so long in Africa and then eating the 'encourage them not to look like skeletons' diet along with everyone else, the more traditional English fare would take some getting used to.

After everyone ate came the announcements, a decision process Xander couldn't quite figure out, because he could tell a good percentage of the kids were either asleep or well on their way to it. Things got interesting fast. In the 'oh hell, here we go again' kind of way.

Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore, who sat down remarkably quickly and did a fairly good job pretending this had been his plan all along. Then Umbridge proceeded to give one of the more disturbing speeches he'd ever heard. And considering he'd been around for Buffy's attempts at rallying the troops, that was saying something. And it made her resemblance to Snyder just that much stronger.

"Right. Operation Annoy the Twit is a go." He muttered to Spike, who grinned toothily. The implications of her speech were more than slightly disturbing, but he was ignoring that in favor of planning what, where, and when to start the campaign.

Eventually they were allowed to troop out of there. Xander shook his head quietly as he headed for his room. Spike was following the Gryffindors to their tower. Xander went over the stuff he'd be covering with his first class one last time before he went to bed, giving a highly amused snort at the idea that he, of all people, was now a teacher.


	16. Malfoy: 0, Harris: 3

Malfoy: 0, Harris: 3

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. To all those enjoying this fic ... hang on to your hats. From here on out, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

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September 5, Hogwarts

The next few days were ... hectic. With September first coming on a Friday, and them not arriving at Hogwarts until after dark, they had a weekend of the kids running around loose. There were patrols to be walked and then finally on Monday, classes began. Xander and Spike spent much of the weekend with Harry and Hermione, continuing their training. Xander found himself pleasantly surprised at the classes for the most part. For most of the students he was, at worst, a curiosity. The biggest problem was going to be Slytherin House, no two ways about it, but they were not inclined to rash action, which meant he was getting a lot of hostile stares and muttered comments from the Slytherins thus far, but no overt acts of defiance. He had a feeling that was going to change once Malfoy was involved.

Harry informed him of the fact Umbridge was refusing to do offensive anything in DADA in favor of defensive theory. Xander thought it was ridiculous, but admitted that it might be needed, if she actually managed to teach them anything, given how slapdash DADA instruction had been for so long. Harry had not been best pleased, but had admitted Xander had a point, and he'd give Umbridge a bit more of a chance to prove herself to not be a git.

Spike was having a fine old time skulking about. He was the cause behind a rash of rumors regarding a new ghost or poltergeist in the castle that liked to play pranks on unsuspecting souls. Well, soul. Umbridge was starting to twitch, and had taken to wearing a very pink poncho in an effort to save her clothes. Spike was clever enough to hit the occasional random passer-by to keep it from being too blatantly obvious that Umbridge alone was the target.

Spike relished filling Xander in on his antics, and the stories were the best part of the day, really. Even limited to nonlethal annoyances, Spike was inventive. That he had drafted the help of the twins just made it worse. She was pelted with dungbombs both magical and mundane, paint balls and a stunning variety of prank spells whenever she ventured out of the safety of her office or her rooms. How they were managing to hit her with spells without getting caught Xander didn't know, but it was hilarious.

Finally, it was the big day. Well, big-ish, anyway. The day he had Harry and his agemates from Gryffindor and Slytherin in his class. While Xander wasn't living in Hagrid's shack, he was using it as a base during class hours, so he didn't have to traipse all the way to the castle. It meant he got to watch the kids as they approached, which had given him a valuable sense of the kids so far. It served him well again today.

The two Houses were traveling 'with their own kind' as it were, with a significant gap between the two groups. Gryffindor House seemed to be broken into two groups. For Gryffindor, it was Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron in one bunch, and the rest in the other, though both groups were nattering back and forth. The Slytherins were a somewhat different story.

They were broken into roughly three groups. Draco was in the lead, strutting like a peacock and talking to the others in his group, two big bruisers who looked like they were a couple years older than everybody else bracketing him and a girl sort of orbited the trio, her attention fixed firmly on Draco. A couple of the other boys and a second girl were staying close, but to Xander's eye, neither of them looked all that thrilled with riding Draco's coattails, and were vacillating between Draco and the third group. The third group of Slytherins was comprised of three girls who were keeping as much distance between themselves and Draco's group as they could manage, gossiping merrily among themselves as they walked towards Xander.

As they got closer, Draco's whining became understandable. "God, and I'd thought this place had gone to the dogs third year when they let Hagrid teach. Now they've got Muggles in!" He sounded utterly disgusted.

Xander shook his head. Good thing he'd prepared for this. He'd known someone would try to cause trouble, so he'd read the Hogwarts rules very closely so he knew exactly what was forbidden and what a teacher was permitted to do about troublemakers. Once everyone had gathered around, he pushed off the side of the shack.

"My name, for those of you who didn't catch it at the Sorting Feast, is Professor Harris." Gawd, he was never going to hear the end of this from the Scoobies. Ever. "I am going to give you the same speech that I have given every other class." He fixed his stare at Draco.

"Magical creatures can be and frequently are dangerous. They also usually require special handling. While you are in this class, you will follow my instructions to the letter. Failure to do so the first time will result in a week long detention wherein you muck out the stables some of our four-legged guests are being housed in by hand. After that, I get inventive. If at any time you cause harm to any of the animals through deliberate disobedience to my instructions, not only will you be assigned a more severe punishment, but you will find yourself paying for the care the creature needs to recover, or paying to replace the creature."

Draco looked less than pleased. Xander grinned mentally. He'd heard all about Buckbeak of course, and like hell would the little shit get a chance to do that to him with some unfortunate animal. Xander relaxed slightly and glanced around the group. "Now that's done with, we move on to today's lesson. Today we're going to be discussing phoenixes, as demonstrated by my wonderful assistant Fawkes."

Fawkes, who'd been out of sight inside Hagrid's shack 'flamed' into view and landed with surprising delicacy on Xander's shoulder. Xander grinned at the wide-eyed looks from a few of the kids. Clearly they knew about Fawkes (or had heard the rumors) but had never seen him.

"Fawkes is Headmaster Dumbledore's familiar, for anyone who might not know. Now for the rules. No touching unless he permits it. Fawkes is, fortunately, one of our less demanding subjects, so that's pretty much it. And as he's the Headmaster's familiar, it would probably be wise to refrain from insulting the Headmaster in his hearing."

"Like it can even understand us? It's a bloody overgrown chicken!" Draco sneered.

Xander was very hard put to not laugh. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for volunteering to receive my first detention. I will be seeing you immediately after dinner, right here, for the next week."

"You said that was only if we didn't follow your instructions! I'm not touching the bloody bird nor am I insulting the Headmaster." Draco sneered.

"The normal school rules still apply, Mr. Malfoy. Being disrespectful and a distraction to the lesson is a punishable offense." That the length of the detention was what it was, was simply Xander making a point. Not just with Draco but with anyone that tried to mess with him. It wasn't his fault Draco was the most likely to fall foul of it! He gave it two days before Lucius Malfoy came knocking on his door. He was rather looking forward to that.

There was actually no further trouble and he was able to go into his prepared talk. At the end of the class, he said. "All right. Your homework for next week is to research and choose three foods you think Fawkes might particularly like. You may not attempt to get help from the Headmaster, however. Bring a sample of each of your choices to class. For extra credit, you can work with your Housemates to try to figure out a way to calculate exactly how much weight a phoenix can carry." That, of course, made Hermione's eyes light up. "Homework for tomorrow is to read Chapter twenty of your books, which covers several breeds of magical equines, as we'll be meeting several examples of them over the next two or three weeks."

They left and the day continued. Xander laughed his ass off when he got a note from Snape (relayed to him by Dobby) commenting on the detention. He didn't even have to read between the lines to pick up on Snape's annoyance. Xander sent a note back, saying the punishment would stand and why. His 'sorry you got dragged into this' was more blatant than Snape's more understated message, but Xander had never been good at subtle.

Draco showed up after dinner, slouching, sneering and pretty much begging to get his detention time extended. Xander walked over to him. "Your wand if you please, Mr. Malfoy. You'll not be needing it for what you're doing, and I don't want you tempted to cheat."

Draco squawked. "I'm not giving my wand ... " He trailed off at the positively lethal look Xander was giving him. "My father will hear of this." He finally snapped, handing the wand over.

"Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Malfoy. I am also supremely unconcerned. Now, follow me." He led Draco to the temporary stable. It'd been put up last year for the Beauxbatons flying horses, and was serving as shelter for one of that breed still, though not one of the ones that had pulled the carriage. Madame Maxime had loaned them a yearling colt, small and young enough to still be fairly tractable and therefore approachable by the students. They also had an Aethonan and an Granian, as well as a thestral from the Hogwarts herd, another yearling colt. At the moment, none of the four were actually in their stalls. They had all been removed in anticipation of Draco's detention.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you will use those utensils there." He pointed to shovel and pitchfork. "To shovel all the dirty bedding and all the droppings into that wheelbarrow. You will roll the wheelbarrow to the compost pile over there when it gets full. Once the stalls are clean, you will lay down clean bedding. Your detention will be over for the night once you have finished all four stalls."

Xander settled himself into the chair he'd known to bring, crossed his arms over his chest and stared Draco down. Draco cussed and whined and procrastinated for a good ten minutes. Xander let him, then, in the same even tone he'd used earlier. "All four stalls will be finished before the detention is over, Draco, even if that means keeping you awake and moving all night."

That finally got Draco moving, if slowly and with much sotto voce complaining. Xander kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't try to run or manage to hurt himself with the clearly very uncustomary physical labor. By the time Draco was half-done with one stall, Xander was trying his hardest not to laugh. The self-styled prince of Slytherin was looking less and less the part by the second. His robes were smeared from the knees down with dirty bedding and dung, and were slightly damp with old urine that hadn't soaked into the bedding yet. By the time he finished the first stall, he was clearly (and honestly) exhausted, shifting the handle of the pitchfork from hand to hand uncomfortably, probably on the verge of developing blisters if he didn't have them already, his hair was sticking up every which way, and he'd managed to get a smear of god-knows-what on his cheek.

Xander took pity on him. "That will do, Mr. Malfoy. Go get cleaned up and see Madam Pomphrey about your hands. You're dismissed. Same time tomorrow." He returned Draco's wand to him.

Draco gave him a disbelieving look for half a second, then dropped the pitchfork and fled as fast as he could move ... which was pretty much a slow walk. Xander by no means thought he'd learned the lesson, but Xander wasn't going to torture the kid. He'd be cleaning all four stalls in one detention by the end of the week.

"Looks like Spike won that bet." Xander muttered to himself. Not that Xander had actually bet against him. Draco was a pureblood, unused to manual labor of any kind, much less the hard work that was mucking out a stall. There'd been absolutely no chance of Draco managing all four stalls tonight.

September 6, Hogwarts

Xander miscalculated on how long it'd take Lucius to show up. He showed up at Hagrid's shack the very next day, just before lunch. And if Draco was Spike's somewhat pathetic little brother ... Lucius was damn near his pre-soul twin. He reminded Xander, rather appropriately, of a cobra coiled to strike, predatory, cold, calculating. A man of power and influence who was not accustomed to being told 'no'. This chat was going to get very interesting very quickly.

"Professor Harris, I presume?" Lucius asked, his voice smooth and hard.

Oh, this guy was good. Managed to make the 'professor' sound like a laughingstock and an insult, and the 'I presume' a threat. Xander leaned back in his chair, fingering one of his knives out of sight under the table, just in case.

"That would be me. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" Go for nice. Then go for the suckerpunch.

"Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius, of course, was making no attempt to shake hands, not that Xander was offering. He probably didn't want to befoul himself with Muggle filth, Xander thought. Not that he was wanting to shake Lucius' hand, either. He'd probably need to count his fingers, after. And bathe in lye and bleach. "Ahh, Draco's father. It's good to see a parent taking an active concern in their child's scholastic career." He commented.

"Indeed. Draco mentioned he had a bit of difficulty in your class yesterday." From Lucius' tone, you'd think Draco was having a spot of difficulty with his homework, but the arctic-cold look in his eyes belied that notion.

Damn, this guy was definitely good. Too bad Spike wasn't here. Xander was enjoying himself thoroughly for the first time since he'd started having to pound wizarding skulls together. "Ahh, yes, that. A matter of high spirits and testing limits. I'm sure you agree that boundaries of respect must be established and maintained in the teacher/student relationship." His own tone conveyed that he could not imagine anyone being fool enough to think otherwise

"Surely a week's detention ... " Lucius started, his voice smooth and somehow managing to be politely concerned and threatening all at once.

"Your son has unfortunately exhibited a disregard both for the instructors of this particular class and the various subjects of it, Mr. Malfoy. Last time he acted ill-advisedly, he was clawed by a hippogriff. I will not tolerate his deliberate disrespect in this class. We deal with animals, Mr. Malfoy, who care not a whit for a person's breeding, wealth or standing in the community. They only care that they are treated in the manner that they require for their well being. If your son had no interest in pursuing working with magical animals as a career, he should not have signed up for the class." Xander somehow kept his tone even. "Everyone requires to learn that there are consequences for their actions at some point in their life, Mr. Malfoy. Be glad that your son's realization will be relatively painless. A few well-worked muscles never hurt anyone."

Lucius looked like he wanted to spit nails. "You punishing Draco to conceal your own incompetence. I'll see you fired!"

"Good luck with that. Only the Headmaster can dismiss Hogwarts staff."

Lucius gave him that cold, snake-eyed look again. "Quite. Good day, Professor. Enjoy your tenure. While you can." He whirled and stalked out like a mortally offended cat.

Xander let out a deep breath. "Whoo. Yeah. Isn't he a lovely example of humanity. Wonder what he's going to try to pull?" Not that it would do him any good. Xander was here to stay.


	17. Signs of the Apocalypse

Signs of the Apocalypse

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 8, Hogwarts

Two days later, Xander found out exactly what Lucius was going to try to do about him.

Fudge named Umbridge 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor', giving her power to deal with the 'seriously falling standards' at Hogwarts. Xander had to admit it was a beautiful move, based wholly in truth, because god knew the standard of teaching here was crap in quite a few classes, but Xander knew the action had not been taken out of an honest concern for the state of affairs at the school. No, this was paybacks, both Fudge's against Dumbledore and Lucius' against Xander.

Too bad for them both that Umbridge actually had a lick of sense. She didn't go straight for Xander the minute she had the authority to 'deal' with him. Nor did she attempt to attack Dumbledore directly. Instead, she started 'auditing' the classes. And, from the way her first victims were acting, had gone for the throat some way or another. Trelawney, who almost never came down out of her tower, now refused to do so at all and was, by all reports, badly shaken. Snape was trying to kill Umbridge with his glare, and even when she wasn't in line of sight, he looked like he was seriously contemplating slipping her a lethal potion. He was also taking his ire out on the students during the latter half of the day's classes. If Harry's reports were to be believed, even the Slytherins were suffering for Snape's ill temper by the end of the day.

Spike and the twins, bless them, immediately stepped up their antagonism of the toad, but aside from making her twitchier, it wasn't really making a dent, at least not yet. Xander decided an emergency meeting was in order, and pulled Harry aside that evening.

"Harry ... have you told the twins yet?" He asked.

Harry gave him a blank look for a couple of seconds before he figured it out. "Oh! That. No. Why?"

"I think it's time they knew. Don't tell them why, but get them to Hagrid's shack tomorrow night. I'll make sure the rest of the party's there."

Harry nodded, and headed off.

"Dobby!"

Dobby popped in.

"Dobby, can you bring Remus and Sirius to the shack tomorrow evening?"

Dobby nodded enthusiastically. "Dobby can, Mister Xander sir!"

"Good. It's time for a council of war, and we're going to need their expertise. Yours too, so you're invited to the meeting as well." Xander told the little fellow.

Dobby's eyes went even bigger than they had been already. "Dobby is honored! Dobby will be there, sir!" And the little guy popped out.

September 9, Hogwarts

The next evening found Hagrid's shack rather full of people.

Remus ensured no one would be able to eavesdrop on them moments after he and Sirius arrived, then glanced at Xander. "It's that bad?" He wanted to know.

"And getting worse. There's nothing we can do yet, legally ... she's not done anything against the law. But it's clear she has an agenda and that agenda is NOT the improvement of the school. She's started enforcing rules ... decrees ... and they make no sense. But again, she has the power to do that thanks to being Inquisitor." Xander filled him in quickly.

"So this is about making her life hell until such time as she does something she can be officially spanked for." Sirius summed up.

"Got it in one." Xander said. "And I figured that between Spike, the twins, and the Marauders ... "

"She'll never know what hit her." Sirius grinned toothily.

"Exactly." Xander gave Sirius an equally toothy grin in return.

They didn't have long to wait for the kids and Spike to arrive. Though there was one more kid than Xander had been expecting as everyone piled into the room. Hermione had evidently decided to join the fun. The twins were evidently in the know about Sirius, as they didn't attempt to scream the roof down or hex him, which was definitely of the good and simplified matters greatly. Once everyone was seated, Xander grinned around the table.

"Ok, let the first meeting of Prankers Anonymous come to order." Xander grinned at everyone. "Ok, in all seriousness, how's she been?"

"Second class was as bad as the first." Harry reported. "Maybe worse. We're not learning anything and we won't, as long as she's in charge."

Xander gave an aggravated huff. "Idiot woman. And she's got her ass covered because she's technically teaching you guys defensive theory, and it's been approved by Fudge. At least you still have lessons with Spike and I."

"But that's not helping everyone else." Hermione said, sounding more than slightly stressed. "People ... especially the fifth and seventh years ... are panicking. They've got their exams to take, and they're not going to pass them. Not with the teaching they've had. Remus tried, but there was no way he could cram three or more years of instruction into one year."

"We've been thinking." Said one twin.

"About making her a test subject." Said the other.

"For our products. After all it."

"Won't matter if things go wrong."

"In her case. But sneaking things."

"Into her food and drink."

"Will be a problem."

Xander glanced over at Dobby. "Dobby, would you be willing to help them out with that angle?"

Dobby nodded hard. "Dobby is willing, sir! None of the other elves is liking Miss Toad, so they is being willing to let Dobby serve her. Dobby will be able to put things in her food easily!"

"Ok, that problem's fixed." Xander said. "Now we just figure out what all else we can do to her."

The twins finally broke.

"Why is an ex-teacher."

"Helping us?"

Harry started snickering. So did Hermione. So did Xander. It took them a few moments to wind down.

"Fred, George." Harry said when he'd calmed down. "I'd like to introduce you to Padfoot and Moony." He pointed to Sirius and Remus in turn.

Xander got to laughing so hard he nearly fell off his chair. He wasn't the only one. Harry, Spike, Sirius and Remus were all howling in laughter as well. Hermione was a bit more restrained in her laughing. Fred and George sat there for a long moment, totally pole-axed, eyes huge and mouths hanging open. Eventually, one of them managed to get their jaw working, only to make like a fish for a minute. The other one managed a rather high-pitched squeak before managing to get his voice working.

"Harry mate." His voice was strained. "Please, please tell me this isn't a joke?"

"It's not." Harry reassured him. "Prongs was my dad, by the way. I found out at the end of third year."

That reduced the twins to incoherent silence again for a minute.

"I thought you said these two were pranksters and wits?" Sirius asked Remus in an overly innocent tone.

That finally got both of them in gear, and incited a babble-fest that made Willow look like a rank amateur. Xander couldn't make heads or tails of it between how fast they were speaking and the fact they tended to split sentences between themselves. Somehow, both twins ended up on their knees with begging expressions on their faces, hands clasped like penitents at prayer.

Poor Sirius was threatening to expire from laughter. He couldn't seem to stop for more than a few moments. He'd try to sober up only to look at the twins and get going again. Eventually the two wound down, and, after many reassurances from Remus and a still-sniggering Sirius, everyone got back to the business of planning the downfall of one Umbridge.

"Right, so. Options, gentlemen and lady." Xander said, suppressing the last of his own sniggers.

"The twins' products are a definite go." Remus said. "And we can teach them a couple of spells that have fallen out of use since the Marauders' day. I can also have a quiet word with Peeves. He's rather fond of the Marauders, and won't mind having a legitimate, no-holds-barred target for his ... particular brand of annoyance. Dobby, aside from slipping her stuff in food and drink, you can take her orders very literally and/or liberally, like you would with a master you weren't fond of."

Dobby nodded enthusiastically at this.

"There's also some muggle tricks you guys could try that she'd not be expecting." Xander offered.

Sirius perked right up. "Oh? Do tell?"

The meeting descended into madness from there. Eventually, they'd talked everything out and decided on a definite course of action. Talk moved to non-prank topics.

"We really need to do something about the fifth and seventh years." Xander said. "But what? I'd volunteer myself to help but I don't think that'd help all that much. This is about tests and grades, not survival."

"I'm at a loss as to what can be done myself." Remus said. "Any attempt to bring someone in officially would be forbidden."

"We just need a way to sneak someone in unofficially, and a way for everyone to meet without getting caught." Xander mused.

"Well, the tunnels provide a way in and out. Getting someone into the castle is as simple as them making a trip to Honeydukes. It's where to have the class without getting caught that's going to be the problem." Sirius piped up.

Dobby spoke up at that point. "Sirs? Dobby is knowing of a place you could go. We calls it the come and go room. It makes itself whatever yous be wanting it to be."

Remus frowned. "I don't remember a room like that. Where is it?"

"It is being on the seventh floor, sir. Yous walk by it three times, thinking what yous wants, and it comes."

"A hidden room. How ... unexpected." Xander drawled, seriously amused. "But hey, that solves that problem. And we've got the solution to the teacher right in the room." He looked pointedly at Remus.

Remus ducked his head a bit. "I don't know ... " He started.

"C'mon, Remus. Everyone liked you when you were an official professor. Well, except for Malfoy, and he's a git." Harry said.

"We'd need some way to protect ourselves from snitches." Hermione said. "To keep people from telling Umbridge or Dumbledore what we're up to. Maybe a sign-up sheet with protections on it?"

Remus nodded. "Good idea. I can help you with that. I did a lot of the research for the spell-work on the map. I still remember a lot of it, and can easily refresh my memory on the rest."

Hermione grinned happily. "Oh! I'd really like to know how you created the map. It's really incredible."

"Ok, so that's dealt with." Xander glanced over at Harry and Hermione. "How's Ron been?" He wanted to know.

"Quiet." Harry said. "And giving me rather odd looks from time to time. Not hostile ones, just ... " Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Weird. And he asked me the other day if I'd ever wanted to be part of his family."

Xander grinned a bit. "What'd you say?"

"That before Sirius showed up, being a Weasley had been a rather pleasant thought." Harry admitted. "He gave me an even weirder look than usual and wandered off, muttering to himself."

Xander was pleased. Evidently, Ron was capable of thinking things out. It just seemed to take him a while. Whether or not he'd actually patch things up with Harry remained to be seen, but this was a giant step forward.

"The document's being brought to Fudge's attention tomorrow." Sirius told Xander. "Well, it's going to go to Amelia Bones, who is head of the DMLE, and the Daily Prophet first, but he'll know about it very soon thereafter."

That made Xander grin like a loon. "That's going to be fun."

The meeting broke up a little after that. It took a concerted effort to get Fred and George back to the castle, as they wanted to consult with their idols, but eventually they got chased off, Sirius and Remus returned to the cottage, and Xander, after a quick trip to get the twins muggle pranking supplied (and to drop them off at the tower) headed for bed.

September 9, The Ministry

Cornelius Fudge was having a fairly good, if slightly odd morning. He'd risen at his usual time, reviewed the reports being sent by Umbridge, with their delightful contents of tales of incompetence of the staff at Hogwarts and the unruly, uncontrolled behavior of the children. All sauce for the goose, as it were, in his campaign to dethrone the clearly addled Dumbledore. Really! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead. Had been for over a decade. It was, in truth, rather sad that Dumbledore felt he must raise old ghosts in order to bolster his fading reputation. It really was the kindest thing to remove him from office before he could do more harm.

Normally he read the paper with breakfast, but Lucius Malfoy had sent a missive outlining a really quite clever new ordinance for controlling werewolves. Truly, the beasts were dangerous. Fudge had expressed the desire to make it legal to hunt the creatures, and the impossibility of managing it with the current soft-hearted imbeciles in the Wizengamot. Lucius had come through with a thoroughly delightful prospect that, with a bit of careful talking-up, might just get signed into law. He got so distracted reading the proposed law through and admiring Lucius' brilliance that he just tucked the paper under his arm, intending to read it when he got to his office.

On the way to his office, he noticed he was getting a few odd looks, but dismissed them. He was soon busy reading rolls of parchment and signing them, and actually forgot all about his paper.

Amelia Bones was not so lucky. She read the paper the moment it arrived, always. The article splashed all over the front page was damning in the extreme, both for the now-dead Barty Crouch Sr., Fudge, and most interestingly, Dumbledore. Several other lesser people were named (the aurors present and Sirius' apprehension, among others). The article that apparently cleared Sirius' name had her interest piqued. With great reluctance she eventually set the paper down and addressed the rest of her mail. Among the usual missives was letter from one of the Wizarding world's law firms. She opened it, and a second roll of parchment fell to the table that she ignored for the moment.

_Madame Bones,_

_My services have been retained by one Sirius Orion Black in his campaign to clear his name and bring to justice those who have so grievously wronged him. As you have probably noticed, an article was run in the Daily Prophet. While I realize this is rather rash, my client and I decided to go ahead as both of us were concerned that this issue might be buried once more in the interests of expediency. Your impartiality and honor are all but legendary, but unfortunately you are not the ultimate authority in our world, and there was concern that your decisions might be overruled. The article will prevent that eventuality. Enclosed, you will find a certified document mentioned in the article. The original shall remain in my possession, but will be available for authentication purposes if required."_

_Yours Respectfully,  
Vesvold Badnerson_

Amelia snorted. She wanted to be irritated, but she had to admit the lawyer had a point. Fudge would like nothing better than to make this particular problem go away. By splashing the news all over the paper, they'd made it impossible for Fudge to bury it. She examined the document, and ran a few detection spells over it. Definitely authentic, and definitely verified as an exact copy of the original. Still, she'd stop by to check the original with her own eyes and wand.

She was on her way within the hour, and proved to her own satisfaction that the document was very real, and had all the necessary authentications. She headed immediately for the Ministry. Once there, she hunted down Moody, and sent him to the storage level to see if any of Sirius' belongings had been confiscated ... and survived ... to be examined, and to find the arrest report, if such a thing existed.

She was pleased beyond measure when Moody returned with an arrest report and a small box that contained a few galleons, sickles and knuts, some other odds and ends from Sirius' pockets ... and Sirius's unbroken wand.

"Merlin be praised. I'd worried it had been 'lost' or broken." Amelia said, sighing in relief. "Go to Diagon Alley and ask Ollivander to come authenticate that it's Sirius'. I'm sure it is, but the more proof we provide, the less wiggle room Fudge has."

Moody was entirely pleased to carry out the mission, and disappeared to fetch Ollivander. Amelia kept the box on her person until he returned, and then the three of them marched to Fudge's office.

Fudge looked a bit bewildered when they marched in. "Director Bones? Is something the matter?"

Amelia blinked. She'd been expecting a Fudge in a snit, throwing a temper tantrum, trying to find ways to wiggle out of the situation he found himself in. She knew he read the paper every morning, as she did. Evidently, he hadn't read it this morning. That just made her grin. She was going to enjoy this.

"I'm afraid something is the matter, Minister. Did you, by chance, fail to read your paper this morning?" She asked.

Fudge instantly went pale and dove for the forgotten rolled-up paper on one corner of his desk. He got paler as he read, then flushed red and slapped the paper down. "Lies! Perjury! Infamy!" He shrieked. "I want them censured. I want a retraction printed and fines levied!"

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Minister." Amelia said. "You see, I received a missive from the lawyer who is representing Mr. Black. I've seen the document with my own eyes. It is quite authentic and very real."

Fudge looked like he was going to be ill for long moments before he rallied. "All right, so he didn't betray the Potters. He still killed those twelve muggles!"

"That is yet to be determined." Amelia said. "By luck, the box of his possessions at the time he was apprehended was still in the storage room." She opened the box and carefully took out the wand. "Mr. Ollivander, if you would care to examine this wand, and tell us whose it is?"

Ollivander took the wand and looked it over. "That wand belongs to Sirius Black." He confirmed, then handed it back.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander." Amelia then took out her own wand and cast priori incantatem.

A series of spells spilled out. A couple housecleaning spells, an alohamora, wingardium leviosa and a few others. Not a one of them anything that could cause an explosion. Amelia breathed a mental sigh of relief. While she had no doubt that Sirius was innocent of the twelve deaths, there had always been the chance that a spell or spells on his wand would fit into the 'could have been used to make the street explode' category.

"No offensive spells of any kind. And this was the wand he was found clutching. There were no unaccounted for wands at the scene, according to the report." She tucked her own wand away and pulled out the arrest report, holding it out to Fudge. Fudge didn't take it. He looked almost catatonic, staring at her in horrified dismay, face a pasty gray color.

It took over an hour to get him to make any kind of sense, and get a declaration out of him regarding Sirius' innocence at the Ministerial level, and a rescinding of his previous 'Kiss on sight' order to the dementors, but she finally got what she was looking for. She then headed, with Moody, to the Prophet, arranging for a special edition later that night, as soon as they could get the issue printed. Within the next forty-eight hours, Sirius Black would be able to walk the streets.

September 9, Hogwarts

Any and all chance of a normal day got shot straight to hell even before the Prophet arrived via owl. This would be because the twins woke early, found Xander's gifts, and promptly drafted Dobby into delivering one to Umbridge. She appeared at the breakfast table with most of her hair, face, and hands dyed blue, with streaks of blue visible down her neck. Xander nearly fell over laughing because she was still trying various spells to be rid of the 'spell' that was causing the trouble. Didn't work, obviously. The kids that were awake enough to notice (which was most of them) were snickering or laughing outright. Several staff members were clearly fighting their amusement as well. Xander nearly doubled over laughing when Snape caught his eye and nodded. Clearly, he'd figured out what the deal was and (rightly) twigged to the ultimate cause of it.

And then the owls came. For all of two minutes, the place was quiet, and then Xander wondered, faintly, if the roof had blown off at the sheer volume from the kids. There was a lot of shouting and jumping around as the kids reacted. Harry in particular was (rather understandably) literally dancing a jig between tables, paper brandished over his head in triumph. Xander thought it was a touch on the overdone side, given he'd been forewarned about it last night, but couldn't deny Harry his much-belated victory dance.

That was nothing to the staff. Umbridge shrieked so loudly and at such a high pitch that Spike, sitting two down from her, clapped his hands over his ears and winced in pain. Snape looked utterly apoplectic, face dead white, lips pinched, eyes snapping and fists clenched in rage. He was actually trembling a little with the effort to not make a spectacle of himself like Umbridge was doing. Several of the others were actually on their feet, calling questions toward Dumbledore.

McGonagall let out a delighted-sounding "Yes!" rolled up the paper, turned, and smacked Dumbledore with it, her eyes snapping. "You should have stood up for his rights when it first happened and then this wouldn't have been necessary!" She snapped at him. "I for one am glad the truth is out, but I'm ashamed to be associated with the man that let it lie hidden for over a decade!"

Dumbledore looked to be more or less frozen into place. He said not a word to anyone for quite a while, but Xander could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out how to deal with this. He was evidently meeting with little success.

It was McGonagall, her scold done, that acted to restore order, firing off a series of noisemakers until the students and staff quieted. "As most of you have read, it has been discovered that Sirius Black is not only innocent of having betrayed the Potters, killing Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles, but was, in fact, never afforded a trial. That the truth is finally known makes today a rather momentous one. That the truth was in fact concealed for many years is something I encourage each of you to think about over the coming days. Should any of you have questions about this matter, I shall make myself available all weekend."

"As will I." Pomona Sprout said, having got over the worst of her reaction. Flitwick was quick to echo her. Snape was rather noticeable for his silence.

It took a bit, but everyone went back to their eating, Dumbledore noticeably troubled and mostly poking at his food. Xander grinned mentally. Dumbledore was in deep doodoo. His complicity was clear, and there was no real way he could wiggle out of it.

The rest of the weekend was rather interesting. Even Xander found himself fielding questions, though at least the ones asked of him revolved around how the Muggle world handled crime, since everyone assumed he knew nothing of the Sirius situation. In the teacher's lounge Sunday night, it was clear that pretty much every teacher had been approached. Even Snape, though he had evidently refused point blank to discuss the matter, and had evidently, resorted to assigning detentions and long, detailed essays to everyone that had the temerity to ask or, worse, push the issue. He even snarled at the other teachers and stormed out of the lounge when it became clear that the sole subject of conversation was Sirius and the kids' questions.


	18. Apocalypse: Hogwarts Part 1

Apocalypse Hogwarts Part 1

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Two things. 1) cussing ahoy 2) Underlined is a direct quote from Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 12. I changed a few things around, but that encounter was entirely too good NOT to use. Enjoy the apocalypse.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 11, Hogwarts

Life, Harry thought as he walked through the corridors, Hermione at his side and Ron trailing a little behind, was pretty good. The last two month (had it really only been two months? Sometimes it felt longer) had been incredible.

It had all started so badly. Cedric dying and Voldemort gaining a body followed by being all but imprisoned by the Dursleys. Then Xander bowled into his life ... and nothing had been the same since. For which Harry was infinitely glad. For the first time (bar Sirius and Remus, of course), he'd encountered an adult that listened to him. That believed him and didn't act condescending, like he was too little to understand or make a difference or even defend himself. Xander had gone out of his way to help, to teach Harry things and ensure there were people around to teach him the stuff Xander couldn't. That those people were Sirius and Remus, allowing Harry to have extended time with the people he thought of as family (rather than the Dursleys) had been so much gravy.

For the first time since he'd figured out Voldemort was still after him, clear back in first year, Harry felt like a bit of the burden he'd been saddled with was off his shoulders. The problem didn't seem as big, as daunting anymore. He didn't feel like he was alone anymore. Oh, don't get him wrong, Hermione was a great friend and a huge help, but she, like him, was just a kid. He couldn't exactly go to her with his big problems and get a fix for them. Merlin knew she came up with solutions for the smaller stuff, but the big stuff was beyond even her considerable abilities.

Better still, the sense of dread that usually dogged him as he waited to see what form trouble would take this year was distinctly lacking. Oh, there was still potential trouble, and plenty of it, but the dread wasn't there this time. Between Xander, Spike, Sirius and Remus, Harry had plenty of people he could go to if something came up, and he knew it. He knew they'd listen and do everything in their power to help. It made things so much easier.

And on top of that ... Sirius was free. There weren't words enough in any language to express how happy that made him. Now, it was not only 'no more Dursleys' it was 'live with Sirius, and very probably Remus'. A far, far, far more enjoyable future. He hadn't been able to stop grinning the last couple days.

Of course, that had as much to do with seeing Dumbledore so thoroughly routed as it did Sirius' freedom. Umbridge's utter humiliation was just icing on the cake. He'd never laughed so hard in his life. He rather thought the 'zombie cat', made out of shed hair donated by a couple of the castle cats, a transfiguration spell and some sort of animation spell to make it move, and the resultant mayhem had been particularly noteworthy. Umbridge shrieking her lungs out and fleeing down the hall pursued by the thing had attracted a LOT of attention and had been a particularly brilliant bit of nastiness, given her apparent fondness for cats.

Snape's mood over the last few days and the fact he was currently on his way to DADA class were really the only blights on the horizon. Even Ron had been reasonable since his blowup on the train. He'd not blown up once all month, which was very nearly a record for him.

The three of them took their seats and waited for Umbridge to speak. Eventually, everyone was settled.

"Good morning class." Umbridge said.

The entire tone of the class had changed a bit since the first one. Then, she'd been smarmy and ... well, really unpleasant. Fred, George, and Spike had changed that even before the other day, though, and the second class, she'd been noticeably more tense and wary. This time, she seemed closer to how she'd been the first class in tone, but far more cautious of her surroundings. Harry had a rather bad feeling about this.

"Wands away, quills out, and books open, please." She demanded.

Well used to the command after the last two classes, Harry rolled his eyes but nevertheless obeyed, dragging out book, quill, parchment and ink..

"Today we will be reading Chapter Three. There will be no need to speak." Different chapter, same speech. Harry grimaced , but obeyed. Today, he could even endure this.

Which made Hermione's sudden, outraged huff all the more startling. Not to mention the hand in the air and the closed book. Since when did she not even try to read?

Umbridge ignored her. And ignored her. And ignored her. But after about ten minutes, almost the entire class was not reading. Watching the silent Hermione/Umbridge war was far more interesting than the book. Gazes seemed to be fairly evenly split between the two, most of them anticipatory. Umbridge finally caved when it became clear that no one was going to do the assigned reading in favor of watching Hermione's persistent attempt at being allowed to speak in class and her own ignoring of that attempt.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" She asked sweetly, as if she'd only just noticed Hermione's hand.

"Not about the chapter, no." Hermione admitted.

"Well, we're reading just now." Umbridge smiled at her. "But if you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims." Hermione said.

That made Umbridge blink a bit, as she'd written that on the board the first day. At the time, Harry had rolled his eyes (as had most of the class) and mostly forgotten it since. He wondered what Hermione was up to.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully." Umbridge said after a moment.

"Well I don't." Hermione said. "You didn't have anything down about learning to use defensive spells, and there's nothing about it in the book."

Oh, maybe she had read the book through after all, Harry thought. He turned to Umbridge, wanting to see what she'd make of this.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge sounded ... amused. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class."

There was so much wrong with that statement Harry didn't even know where to start, and he was hard put to not snicker.

"It's happened before!" Neville said. He was probably remembering the pixie incident, if the look on his face was any indication.

"We're not going to use magic at all?" Ron wanted to know, sounding startled.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak will in my class, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley." Umbridge scolded. Then she turned her back on them.

Harry scowled at her, and very nearly clonked arms with Hermione when they both raised their hands at the same time. Umbridge eyed them both, her gaze lingering on Harry in a way that made him uneasy. She turned away from him and turned her attention to Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" She asked. "You wanted to ask something else?"

"Why aren't we learning how to use spells?" Hermione wanted to know. "Isn't that the point of Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Are you a Ministry trained educational expert, Miss Granger?"

"No." Hermione said. "But ... "

"Well then, I'm afraid you're not qualified to decide what the point of any class is." Umbridge said. "Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk free way."

Well, that tore that. Half the class was now looking at her like she was utterly mad. Secure, risk free way, what? About a half-dozen hands went in the air.

"Mr. Thomas?"

"What use is learning spells in a risk free way when we get attacked?" Dean wanted to know.

"I repeat." Umbridge said. "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"Like Neville said, it's happened before." Dean pointed out.

Umbridge sighed sadly at that. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class. Very irresponsible indeed. Not to mention extremely dangerous halfbreeds."

Harry saw red, incapable of ignoring the insult to the man he looked to as an uncle. "If you mean Professor Lupin!" He all but roared. "He was the best we ever had!" He was exceedingly gratified to notice a sea of nodding heads and looks of agreement. He opened his mouth to refute the 'exceedingly dangerous' bit but Umbridge cut him off.

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge commanded sharply. "As I was saying, you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believe that you are likely to meet dark attacks every other day."

"No we have not!" Hermione objected. "We just ... "

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Umbridge snapped.

When Hermione held up her hand, Umbridge turned away from her. Harry frowned at that, noticing the pattern. Ask a question she disliked, she interrupted and turned away in an attempt to shut you up. Evidently he wasn't the only one, because hands were going up and staying up all over the room. Yay for technicalities. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you." Umbridge continued, turning back towards them after a moment, but still ignoring Hermione.

Harry had to admit she had them there. 'Moody' certainly had pulled some rather questionable things. But the fault there lay more with Dumbledore (he didn't notice 'Moody' wasn't the real deal all that time? Honestly!) than anywhere else.

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean, sounding irritated. "Mind you, we still learned loads."

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" Umbridge was starting to sound really pissed about that. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. Yes, Miss Patil?"

"Isn't there a practical section on the DADA O.W.L? Aren't we supposed to show them we can do the countercurses and other spells?" Parvati wanted to know.

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

That one touched off a bit of a storm.

"We're not going to practice them before hand?" Parvati all but shrieked. "Are you telling us that the first time we get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat." Umbridge said. "As long as you have studied the theory hard enough."

"Theory doesn't help us learn to get the motions right!" Harry exploded. "And what good's theory going to be in the real world?"

"This is school, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said. "Not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?" Harry squawked.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said.

That actually got quite a few snickers.

"Oh yeah?" Harry's temper was starting to boil. He'd been fine until that comment about Remus, but he was getting more and more irritated with Umbridge's idiocy.

"Whom do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge asked.

"Hmm, let's think." Harry said. "There's kidnappers, thieves, your general all-purpose malcontents, death eaters and, oh yeah. Voldemort. Can't forget him."

All the girls except for Hermione shrieked. The boys except for Ron cringed. Neville went one further and nearly fell off his chair. Hermione and Ron settled for looking very uneasy.

Umbridge never so much as twitched. She just stared at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression. Harry winced internally, recognizing too late that he'd jumped with both feet into a trap of some sort. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter." She fairly purred the words.

"Why?" Harry wanted to know. "I've not done anything wrong."

To his surprise, she ignored him. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned from the dead."

"He wasn't dead, but yeah, he's returned." Harry said.

He couldn't not confirm it. Not after the graveyard. Not after Cedric.

"Mr. Potter you've already lost your House ten points do not make matters worse for yourself." Umbridge said, all in one breath ,and nearly fast enough to qualify as a babble. Then, after a breath, she continued in her usual style. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain dark wizard is at large once more. This is a lie."

"It is not a lie!" Harry practically yelled. "I saw him. I fought him! He killed Cedric!"

"As I was saying, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in any danger from any dark wizard. If you are still worried, come and see me outside of class hours."

"The Ministry guarantees it?" Harry snarled. "Like they guaranteed Sirius Black's guilt? Voldemort is alive. He's out there and he and his followers will not care about how old we are. If we don't learn to defend ourselves here, where do we learn to defend ourselves!"

"DETENTION, Mr. Potter! Tonight at six o'clock." Umbridge said, then looked at the rest of the class and spoke as if he hadn't. "If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help you. I am your friend."

Harry was severely angry now. Some part of him knew pushing this was unwise in the extreme, but he couldn't let it go. He shot to his feet. "So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he? Without a mark on him?" He ignored Hermione's yanking on his sleeve and her whispered attempts to get him to be quiet.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident." Umbridge said.

"It was murder!" Harry said. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it! I told Fudge!"

Umbridge's expression went utterly blank. "Come here, Mr. Potter." She said after several long moments.

Harry made sure he could get to one of the knives he'd gotten before heading for Hogwarts just in case, then walked up to her desk cautiously. Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out and started scribbling on it, hunched over so he couldn't see what she wrote. Then she sealed it and handed it to him. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, Mr. Potter."

He was only too glad to comply, grateful both to get out of that class and to be sent to McGonagall, not Dumbledore.

September 11, The Detention

Harry reported to Umbridge's office for detention right on time. He tried not to laugh as he looked around the room, because he saw evidence of pranks scattered around everywhere. There was a student's chair and desk in front of Umbridge's desk, along with a roll of parchment and an odd looking quill. He sat down.

"For detention, Mr. Potter, you will be writing the line 'I must not tell lies'."

"How many times?" Harry wanted to know.

"Let's say until it sinks in." She sounded entirely too smug.

"I haven't any ink."

"You won't need any."

Harry blinked, then shrugged. He'd heard of quills that didn't need to be inked before this. Maybe that's why it looked so odd. He bent to start writing. Within moments, the back of his hand started to hurt. He glanced over at it, and his eyes went wide when he saw, faintly, the same letters he'd just written. He glanced up at Umbridge.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Last year, he would have kept his silence and kept writing. This time ... not so much. There was only one slight problem. Getting away with her staring at him like that was going to be difficult. He wordlessly bent his head and pretended to write, making a faint noise of distress.

After a few moments, she ceased to watch him so carefully, and Harry made his move. He flung himself at the door, wrung it open, (deeply grateful it wasn't locked) vaulted over the stair rail down into the classroom and bolted out of the classroom door like the demons of hell were after him. Behind him, Umbridge screamed for him to stop, to return. Harry didn't stop. He kept on running. He skidded around a corner and dove into an alcove, then braced himself against the wall long enough to get a bit of breath back.

"Dobby!" Dobby popped in instantly. "Take me to Xander, quick!"

Dobby didn't say a word, just grabbed his hand and popped him straight into Xander's room.

Xander had been sitting at the desk in his room when Dobby and Harry popped in. He immediately dropped what he was doing. "Harry?"

"You know that detention I got with Umbridge? She made me write lines with this." Harry held out the quill he still had clutched in one hand. "It gouged the letters out of the back of my hand." He exhibited the back of his hand, still irritated-looking.

Xander's expression went utterly murderous. "Dobby? Do you know of these quills?" He asked, fighting for control.

"Yes sir, Dobby does. They is being very very bad, sir. They is being forbidden! Dobby is seeing his old master make someone use one. It made them bleed awfully, sir!"

A red haze decended over Xander's vision. "Where is she?" He snarled.

Dobby, looking exceedingly alarmed, popped out, then popped back seconds later. "She is being heading for Gryffindor Tower sir." He told Xander.

"Get Spike. Bring him here. Bring Hermione and Ron here. Harry, do NOT leave this room for any reason." Xander snarled. He grabbed his axe and then raced out the door, slamming and locking it behind him.

There were quite a few people about at this hour, relaxing here and there after a long day of classes, studying in odd, quiet corners. Xander was vaguely, dimly aware of them flattening themselves against the walls, running the other way, crying out in fear. He didn't care. He just kept running.

He caught up with Umbridge just outside the Tower, only a few feet from the portrait. She didn't see him coming. He grabbed her by the shoulder, turned her around and slammed her against the wall with all his strength, then wrapped his free hand around her throat. The other hand held the haft of his axe, the blade of which rested just above the knuckles squeezing her windpipe. Her eyes were wide, white rimmed and rolling in terror. His grip was tight enough that all she could do was croak like the frog she was in an effort to speak.

"You. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch." He snarled. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Harry Potter is under the protection of the Watcher's Council, you stupid cow. And I am the representative they sent to protect him. By law, I could kill you where you stand and NO ONE in your world or mine would do a damn thing to stop me or censure me. Your death wouldn't even rate a bit of paperwork. 'Any and all threats to the successful completion of a mission may be dealt with to the fullest extent of the Watcher Council's capabilities.', bitch. And you just presented a threat to my mission." He slammed her against the wall, rattling her teeth. "Lucky for you, I have no desire to soil my favorite axe with your worthless, scumbag blood at the moment. You have five minutes to get the fucking hell out of this castle before I see how many bits I can chop you into." He stepped back, lowered the axe, and, still gripping her throat, shoved her in the direction of the stairs. "Go. Before I change my mind."

Umbridge ended up sprawled on the floor just in front of the stairs, staring at him in horror, one hand at her throat and gasping for air. Xander twirled his axe easily in one hand in a clear threat. That finally got her going. She half ran, half fell down the stairs, passing ... oh, goodie ... Dumbledore on the way.

"Not one word, old man. Not one word." Xander warned, severely tempted to use his axe on the old goat. He reached into his pocket and dug out his cellphone, hitting a number on speed dial. When it was answered, he growled into it. "Giles, burn them down. A fucking Ministry appointed employee just tried to use a forbidden quill that evidently uses blood for ink and gouges flesh out of the user's hand. I want fucking Fudge's head on a platter within a week, I want someone with some balls and some sense in his place, and if you fucking well have to destroy the Wizengamot to do it, I won't shed a tear." He snapped the phone closed and glared at Dumbledore.

"Is that really necessary?" Dumbledore asked, sounding sad, weary and disappointed.

Xander very nearly buried his axe in the idiot's head. "Fucking yes, you asshole. Your entire world is rotten to the core. If this is the only way to change it ... so be it."


	19. Apocalypse: Hogwarts Part 2

Apocalypse Hogwarts Part 2

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 11, Hogwarts

Dumbledore gave Xander the sort of 'sad grandfather/disappointed mentor' look he was so famous for. "Is such rash and inconsidered action truly necessary?" Dumbledore repeated.

Xander just stared at him for a second in dumbfounded disbelief before answering. "Oh, I don't know. Let me think about that for a second ... hell yes. You people have done nothing but fuck up from the word go. Instead of people fighting for their lives against Voldemort, most of your population hid under their beds. Then you personally forced a false interpretation of a prophecy in order to create a 'weapon' you could wield against Voldemort. Then your government and you slapped innocents in jail without a trial while allowing the truly guilty to buy their way out of trouble. Then we come back to you again, with the blood wards."

Evidently, word of that had not gotten to everyone, because Xander heard an outraged exclamation from nearby. "And the whole ignoring and abetting abuse by returning the victim to the abusive situation. Not to mention your outright refusal to protect this school as is your fucking job time and time again. I mean, what fucking idiot brings an item into a school that will attract the attention of thieves at the very least and Dark wizards at worst? Who is so blind and incompetent as to not notice or care when a staff member's entire personality and pattern of behavior changes radically? Who can't even fucking tell the difference between a goddamn impostor and their supposed friend? Who allows the appointment of a teacher by someone not qualified to make such an appointment? Who tolerates not one, but several incompetent teachers on his staff? Who has turned a blind eye and deaf ear to the complaints against the teacher appointed by the aforementioned unqualified appointer? The Wizarding world has had its chance to govern itself and solve its own problems. All it's done is stick its collective head in the sand and try to shoot the messenger."

Xander glared at Dumbledore. "As a duly appointed representative of the Watcher's Council on a mission, I am hereby enacting the Emergency Control Clause of the Watcher's Council Pact. As of now, I am in control of this school. You, you old bastard, are stripped of your Headmastership. Your other titles of authority in the Wizarding World are hereby suspended and you are confined to your quarters pending a court of inquiry by the Council into your actions since Voldemort first came to power. Any attempt to flee will result in a 'kill on sight' order. Now get out of my sight."

Dumbledore evidently knew his law, because he looked deeply aggrieved but didn't argue, simply retreated. It wasn't until then that Xander realized he had more of an audience than he thought. McGonagall and Flitwick were standing further down the hall, both of them wide-eyed and furious. McGonagall in particular looked like she wanted to skin someone alive, and her gazed was firmly on Dumbledore as he retreated into ignominy. There were also about a dozen kids scattered around in his line of sight too, all looking scared half to death. He took a deep breath and fought to calm down.

"Professor McGonagall, you've struck me as a strict but fair woman who's got a raftload of common sense and isn't afraid of speaking her mind. Would you be willing to act as Headmistress in order to reassure the students? Having a familiar face in authority will help matters." Xander said.

McGonagall looked a bit startled, but after a moment, she nodded. "Yes, I'll do it."

"Thanks." Xander said, breathing a mental sigh of relief. "Can you get everyone assembled into the Great Hall in say, an hour? There's gonna need to be some explanations ... and changes. And if you'd gather the staff in forty-five minutes so I can talk to you all briefly beforehand?"

She nodded, and headed off to make the announcement.

Xander had an entirely different target in mind. First, he headed back to his room, to give Harry, Hermione, Ron and Spike the all-clear. He walked in to find Spike vamped out and pacing, Ron red-faced with rage, and Hermione sputtering incoherently. Harry was squeezed between Ron and Hermione and looking a touch shell-shocked, either at what had happened, everyone's reactions to it, or both, Xander couldn't be sure.

"Pet, please tell me you killed the bint." Spike pleaded. Ron and Hermione both nodded in agreement.

"Sorry, no. But I scared the hell out of her. Harry, Ron, Hermione, you can head back to your Tower now. There's going to be a meeting in an hour in the Great Hall." Xander told them. The kids nodded, wide-eyed, and headed out.

"Called Giles, did you?" Spike asked when they were gone, expression maliciously gleeful.

"Yeah. Another fifteen minutes and the Ministry is going to be swarming with pissed-off Slayers." Xander gave Spike a toothy grin.

Spike grinned widely. "Would be lovely to see it, but I'm thinkin' this is going to be more fun."

"Ho yeah." Xander said with a grin. "Listen, I gotta go. Someone I need to talk to privately before the meeting." He said, then called out. "Dobby!"

A wide-eyed and wary Dobby popped in. "Yes, Mister Xander sir?"

"You happen to know where Snape's at?"

"He is being in his office, sir." Dobby told him.

"Thanks, Dobby. Could you get Sirius and Remus and bring them to the meeting room behind the Great Hall? And sorry if I scared you earlier. I just got mad because Umbridge hurt Harry." Xander got a split-second glimpse of an utterly pissed-off look on Dobby's face before he popped out.

"You know the little bugger's going to go kick her ass, yeah?"

"That was the point of telling him, Spike." Xander said. "Incidentally, she's got another three minutes or thereabouts to be off the grounds. If she's not gone by then, grab her, throw her in a room somewhere and lock it. Oh, and have fun scaring the holy hell out of her. She's fair game."

"'m rubbing of on you a bit, pet. Kinda fun seeing you all evil-ish." Spike said with a grin.

"Shut up Blondie." Xander flipped Spike off and then left to go chat with Snape. Spike left with him, though he headed in a different direction.

This time, Xander noticed when the kids gave him a very, very, very wide berth. Mentally, he snickered. He didn't blame them, really. Pissed off one-eyed man with an axe storming through the castle was enough to give anyone pause. Eventually he made it to the dungeons, and knocked on Snape's office door.

"Enter." Snape drawled. Xander walked in and leaned against the edge of Snape's desk. "Professor Harris?"

"We need to talk." Xander told him. "And I'm not thinking it's stuff you want anyone else to hear."

Snape considered that for a moment, nodded, then flicked his wand at the office door, which closed. "We shall not be disturbed."

Xander nodded. "I don't know how much you know about the Watcher's Council and how we work, so I'm going to give you a really quick rundown. Basically, it's our job to deal with demons, dark magic users of any stripe, apocalypses and prophecies ... provided, of course, we know about them. To do that job, we go into pretty much every country and inevitably step on a number of toes. So a very long time ago, the Watchers set it up with everybody, including the wizarding world, that if bad shit was going down, we could come in and do what needed doing to fix it without legal repercussions. And if anyone got in our way and deliberately obstructed our attempts to fix it, we had the power to deal with them as we saw fit."

Snape eyed him. "And you just enforced that."

Xander nodded. "Right about now, a shitload of people are storming the Ministry to gain control. Fudge and everyone in the Ministry who happens to have that damned mark on their arm is going to find themselves in a nice, tight cage in very short order unless they smell us coming and run for the hills." He studied Snape. "What I need to know, once and for all, is whose side you're really on. I'm pretty sure I know, but I need to hear the words."

Snape regarded him for several long moments before finally speaking. "I was a fool in my youth, Mr. Harris. I thought the Dark Lord was the path to the power and respect I thought owed me. It was not until he killed the one person I have ever called friend that I realized my error. After that ... " Snape glared. "I was, and remain, willing to do whatever it takes to wipe him from existence permanently."

Xander nodded. He could get behind that sort of motivation. "Fair enough. Now come the tough questions. It's going to become really damn obvious to Moldyshorts really fast that things have changed here, and that Dumbledore is no longer in control or influence-able. Do you want to continue spying? Do you think the radical shift in the situation will affect your value to him, or put your life in jeopardy?"

Snape shook his head. "To be frank, Mr. Harris, I do not have any choice in going back to him. Should I fail to do so, he will be able to kill me through the mark I bear. Oh, not quickly, but eventually. There is nothing that can be done to stop it."

Xander very nearly laughed. "Snape ... I can guarantee you we can get rid of that damn thing. Maybe not right this second, but definitely within the next couple days."

"But ... " Snape stopped. "Willow Rosenburg. She is that powerful?"

"That powerful and more. Hell, if I had the foggiest notion where His Ugliness was at, she could fry him long-distance. Say, you don't happen to know where he's hiding, do you?" Xander asked. Not that he'd actually let Willow fry Voldemort ... that way lay potential badness. It would at least cause Willow flashbacks about her Darth Willow days, even if she didn't slip into Darth Willow mode.

"Unfortunately not. He does not allow us to know where we are when he summons us."

"Damn. Oh well, it was worth asking." Xander said. "So, given that the mark is not a factor in this ... ?"

Snape sighed. "I am unsure what other purpose I could serve."

Xander snorted. "You've got a House full of kids headed straight for hell, and you ask me that? You're their Head of House, and you've been around Voldemort. You're also a hell of a lot closer to the 'ideal' Slytherin than any of the little menaces are, so far as I've seen. They seem to have mistaken brazen bullying and riding on their parents' coattails for cunning, guile, and ambition. They need someone to help them get their heads on straight."

Snape looked torn between pleasure at being called an 'ideal' Slytherin and outrage at Xander's impugning the current generation of his House, however accurate Xander's analysis might have been. "It would be a challenge to correct their mistaken beliefs, but it might be possible." He finally said.

"Last thing on the list ... you are going to have to start treating everyone equally. No more blasting Gryffindors for daring to exist while showering Slytherins with points for the same. And the deliberate targeting of Harry stops. I realize you have issues with his father and his father's friends, but that's his father and his father's friends, not Harry." Xander laid down the law.

Snape gave a nod. "Very well. In truth, it was a role expected of me by the position I was in."

Mostly, Xander thought. He had a feeling that part of Snape rather enjoyed giving people hell. Not to mention un-dealt-with issues regarding James Potter and Sirius Black. Remus was in there as well, but to a somewhat lesser extent than the other two. Xander still didn't know all the details, but that hardly mattered. "Right, anyway, there's going to be a meeting in the Great Hall in about ... forty minutes or so, so you know, and a staff meeting in the meeting room in about twenty-five. Oh! Almost forgot!" Xander whipped out his cellphone again, and hit another number on speed dial. "Wills? Whoah! Whoah! Calm down, Wills. I'm fine. This is not a 'save me' call. Can you pop over here? We need your help with something. Great, see you in five."

Snape eyed him. "I would very much like to know how you get that to work in here."

Xander grinned at him but didn't say a word. A few seconds later, Willow popped in, surprising Snape. "Willow Rosenberg, meet Severus Snape." He said.

"Nice to meet you!" Willow chirped.

"Wills, he's definitely a good guy. Only problem is, if he doesn't go play with Mr. Nasty, Moldyshorts will get him through the Mark and eventually kill him."

"So you want me to get rid of it." Willow said. "Can I see it?"

Snape eyed Willow for a moment, then pulled his sleeve back.

Willow gently gripped his wrist with one hand and peered at the mark, her face wrinkled with distaste. "Nasty, nasty magics." She commented, then started to mutter under her breath and trace a finger over the mark's outline without quite touching Snape's skin. After a minute or so, she stopped muttering. "Well, I can get rid of it, but it's attached to your nervous system, which I'm pretty sure you know by now. I don't know exactly how your body will respond to this thing getting removed, so I'd feel better about removing it if we had a healer available, just to be safe."

"Pomphrey'll be willing to help, I bet." Xander said. "Though it's probably best to wait to do it until after the meeting."  
Snape nodded agreement to that, and Willow let go of his wrist.

"I've got to get back, Xander. They need my help for the transportation spells. Oh, and Giles called Wesley. He figured you'd need an extra hand or two here given what you've said about the classes. So I'm going to be picking Wesley up in the morning ... they're evidently in the middle of dealing with demon stuff right now, and Giles wants to send one of the girls, too."

"Faith." Xander said immediately. "Much as I love Buffy, you guys need her elsewhere." Not to mention that if it came down to it, Faith wouldn't hesitate to do what was needed. Buffy sometimes had follow-through issues, and taking a hard, unpleasant line when it cames to people. Faith ... didn't. And even when she did, she talked a damn good game. Besides, she worked with Wesley better than Buffy did.

"Right. I'll send Faith over right away, and Wesley when he's ready." Willow agreed, then popped out. A few seconds later she was back with Faith, who was dressed in skintight leather and armed for bear. Willow waved and popped back out. Snape eyed Faith, one eyebrow rising almost to his hairline.

"Yo, X-Man. Heard you pulled a 'fuck you'. Not that these morons don't deserve it." Faith said, grinning toothily at Xander. "Sure as hell kicked over an anthill at HQ. Haven't had this much fun since I don't know when."

Xander snickered "I can just imagine. Ripper making an appearance yet? Oh, and meet Severus Snape. He's the potions professor here."

Faith eyed Snape up. "Ripper made an appearance about the time we found out about the blood wards, X-Man, and he hasn't really left." She offered Snape a nod.

Xander snorted. "Hmmm, the wards would have pissed him off, yeah." He said. "C'mon, we need to get to the Great Hall, and it's liable to take a bit longer than usual to get there from here."

The three of them headed for the Great Hall. Faith stared around her at the various oddities, but limited herself to a sardonic "Trippy." as her sole comment on the admittedly weird stuff to be seen. Xander, for his part, was trying desperately not to crack up, because the stream of kids they passed couldn't quite seem to figure out if they wanted to run from him (and Snape, bad combo, that!), or tag along behind Faith, drooling. From the teasing smirk and the extra hip-wiggle, Faith was clearly aware of the drool brigade.

Soon enough they were in the meeting room, and so was the entire staff. And a ranting Sirius and gold-eyed Remus. Whoops. Xander walked over to the pair and pulled them aside. "Guys." He said quietly. "Harry is all right. And everyone that's ever hurt him is going to end up paying for it dearly, that I promise you, ok? Just please try to calm down a little bit?"

They were both a tad on the reluctant side, but slowly subsided, and Xander was able to turn his attention to everyone else.

He took a deep breath. "I am sure all of you are wondering what in the name of hell is going on, so I'll explain. I'm not just some random muggle off the street that Dumbledore decided to make a pet of. I am a card-carrying member of the Watcher's Council. For those of you not in the know, the Watcher's Council works with Slayers to prevent demon takeovers, apocalypses, and nasty prophecies. We have been given jurisdiction and the option for total control if necessary by every government in the world, including the Wizarding government. Now, for the most part, the wizarding world has been left alone. You guys haven't had much activity in the areas we preside over. Until Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter. Unfortunately, we didn't find out about the situation because a certain meddlesome, scheming old goat with delusions of grandeur decided to play god and keep everything to himself, which he should not have. In the normal course of events, a prophecy, once spoken, is recorded and reported to the Watcher's Council, no matter what the source. Dumbledore heard and recorded the prophecy, but he decided it must be about Voldemort and Harry, and he would therefore handle it on his own, and there was no need to inform the Council about the prophecy." Xander rolled his eyes at the idiocy.

"He then went further, and in an effort to control his newly-created weapon, began to manipulate a number of factors to settle things to his liking. He placed a blood ward over Harry's aunt's home, aided and abetted in the suppression of justice in the matter of Sirius Black, and numerous other acts of questionable sense and legality. He might have managed to continue his manipulations unchecked if it weren't for the ritual that Voldemort performed at the end of the last task of the Triwizard Tournament, which used mass quantities of earth magic, and therefore gained himself Council attention as a possible 'attempting to bring about an apocalypse'-er."

Xander shook his head. "That ends now, and things are going to change radically. Firstly, I'd like to introduce you all to Faith. She's a fellow co-worker in the Council. We will also be being joined in the morning by Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. Professor Flitwick? I've heard you are a Duelling Master. Would you be willing to work with the children to learn to fight for their lives? I sincerely doubt Death Eaters will give a damn that they're children."

Flitwick seemed surprisingly grim, but he nodded. "I am more than willing, Mr. Harris. I have advocated the inclusion of a dueling club at the very least since I accepted my post here, in vain."

"Not in vain anymore. If you need or want assistants, let me or McGonagall know. That brings up the second item. Dumbledore has been removed from the post of Headmaster due to his incompetence, and McGonagall has agreed to take his place. Third thing." He looked over at Trelawney. "I'm sorry, but Divination will no longer be taught here as a required class. You either are a seer, or you're not. If we find any true seers among the children, they will be sent to you for instruction and assistance, but no one else will be expected to attend the class." Then he looked over at Burbage. "I admire your enthusiasm and acceptance of muggles, but your information is badly out of date. Wesley will be acting as your assistant, to catch you up on what you've missed and help you explain it all to your students."

To his surprise, both women took it quite well. Trelawney seemed pleased that she would be permitted to conserve her energies for the truly deserving, and Burbage started babbling thanks at him.

"I know what I teach is out of date." She admitted. "But the Ministry barred me from teaching anything else, and I couldn't exactly go on field trips to discover what muggles had come up with since the permitted books were written." Burbage told him.

Xander gave a purely mental snort at that. "Next thing. Binns is hereby fired. If we can't get him to stop going to the classroom to teach, we'll move the class, but either way a ghost has no business teaching in a school for the living. I have no problem with the ghosts of the castle appearing as guests, to tell their stories if they are willing, but as actual long-term teachers, it's unacceptable." He glanced over at Sirius and Remus. "Remus, would you be willing to teach DADA again?"

Remus choked and sputtered. "I ... but ... "

"Remus, what I say goes. The Ministry doesn't get a vote. Werewolf be damned, the kids liked you. They learned from you. If you want it, the job is yours." Xander told him.

Remus hemmed for a minute, then, after a shot in the ribs from Sirius, nodded. "I'll take the job."

Xander grinned. "Excellent. Sirius? Would you be willing to take the History of Magic class, at least for a few days, if you don't think you can manage it full-time? God knows you can't possibly make the subject more boring that Binns has."

Sirius nodded. "I'll give it a go." He said.

Xander grinned over at McGonagall. "Well, now I've dealt with the stuff you'd have had a time of fixing so fast, the floor's yours."

McGonagall nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Harris. All of Umbridge's decrees are null and void." She said. "And from now on, I want to see the rules enforced fairly, without regard to House affiliation." She gave Snape a very pointed glare at that bit. "Bullying will not be tolerated. Mr. Malfoy will be stripped of his prefect status, as I have heard enough to know he is abusing the privilege, and in all honesty, he never should have gotten the privilege in the first place. Mr. Zabini was my first choice of prefect, but I was overruled." She glanced over at Xander. "And if I thought I could give Harry the prefectship he deserved to have in the first place without fracturing his friendship with Mr. Weasley beyond repair, I would. As it stands, since Mr. Weasley has had to be chivvied to do the least of his duties and, like Mr. Malfoy, had no business being a prefect in the first place, if for different reasons, I shall give the badge to Mr. Longbottom."

All that settled, the teachers filed out into the Great Hall. The place was hopping, everyone talking at once. Three of the Houses had gone so far as to create huddles with each other, little groups of six or so, mostly kids of the same year, their heads together as they compared notes between Houses. Only Slytherin wasn't mingling. All of them were sitting stiffly in their seats, disdainful and wary all at once, whispering among themselves. They were the first to notice the arrival of the teachers and go silent. The silence gradually spread across the room.

McGonagall, a look of distaste on her face, waved her wand at Dumbledore's rather throne-ish chair, transfiguring it into something virtually identical to every other chair at the head table before sitting down.

Xander stayed on his feet. "First of all, I would like to apologize to everyone I scared earlier this evening. I had just found out that Professor Umbridge forced a student to write lines with an illegal quill ... one that uses blood for ink ... " Whoah momma. Pretty much half the room reacted to that with cries of outrage. " ... and as I take an exceedingly dim view of people who deliberately cause harm to children, I was ... more than slightly upset, and not thinking clearly. You will probably all be pleased to know that Umbridge is now no longer a teacher at the school." This caused a mass cheer from every table, even the Slytherins.

Xander went on to explain the situation to the students. The Watchers, the rules that gave him the ability to do what he'd done. Dumbledore's actions, etc. Once he'd given everyone a rundown, he said. "Now if anyone has any questions, please feel free to seek me out. I promise that despite appearances, I don't bite. For the rest of the announcements, I'll turn things over to Headmistress McGonagall."

McGonagall informed the kids about the abolishing of the Umbridge rules and Binns being fired (inciting another mass cheer), and the changes in Burbage and Trelawney's classes, which received a more restrained reaction. She then announced the formation of the dueling club, and the new DADA and History of Magic professors. She got another cheer (not quite a mass one, but damn close) at the news that Remus was back.

"There is one final note. Please be aware that the rules will be being enforced as they ought to have been. Bullying will not be tolerated for any reason. Attacking a classmate at any time other than supervised lessons in dueling will result in immediate expulsion. If you have any questions or would like a refresher on the rules, please see either myself or one of your other teachers. You're free to go, but if you wish to stay and talk you're more than welcome to do so." McGonagall told them, then finally sat back down.

It surprised Xander not a whit that a good sized chunk of the kids stayed to talk things over.


	20. Apocalypse: Watcher HQ and Ministry

Apocalypse Watcher HQ Ministry

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. I have changed one detail about the Department of Mysteries. The 'locked room of love' does not exist. In its place is something else.

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September 11, Watcher HQ

Over the last weeks, Giles had not been an idle man. Xander had wished to attempt to deal with the Wizarding problem in a reasoned, adult manner before metaphorically (and possibly literally) applying Buffy's troll hammer liberally to the problem, and Giles had respected that. There was, after all, the outside chance such a resolution would be possible.

Giles was, though, nothing if not practical. And thorough. He'd been quietly reassigning and rearranging the available personnel in the Council, gathering a growing group of Slayers, Watchers and Witches that he knew they could depend on at the British HQ. It took a bit of delicate arranging, as he had no wish to leave any of the hellmouths undefended or under defended, and Watchers and Witches were still thin on the ground after the old Council's destruction.

He was in his office, perusing one of the books that had been rescued from the wreckage of the old Council HQ when his phone rang, with the particular tone Dawn had chosen to indicate it was one of the 'original Scoobies' on the other end. As the only original Scooby not currently in residence was Xander, it was fairly easy to figure out who was on the other end. "Hello Xander." He said. It wasn't the first time Xander had called with an update, and that was what he was expecting. So he was more than somewhat taken aback at the pure rage vibrating in Xander's voice.

Xander didn't even wait for a response, just immediately cut off the call when he'd finished. Not that Giles particularly blamed him. Carefully controlling his own anger, he reached over to the intercom. "Dawn, mobilize for Project Reform." He said.

"You bet I will! What did they do?" She wanted to know.

"Hurt young Mr. Potter." Giles told her.

"Oh hell. Bad move."

"Indeed. He was quite irate."

"I just bet!" Dawn flipped a couple switches at the intercom switchboard she was sitting at. "Attention everyone! We are go for Project Reform! Everyone in uniform, locked and loaded and in place for transport in fifteen minutes!"

Within seconds, the large campus which had once been a part of a college that went under many years ago, was seething with activity. Slayers, Watchers and Witches assigned to the project hustled to get ready, donning the thin, flexible, kevlar shirts that had become standard issue shortly after Giles had got his hands on Council funds. It didn't stop everything, but it had reduced injury and mortality rates considerably. So did the ear pieces that were also standard issue. Eventually, telepathic relays would replace the earpieces, but they didn't have enough witches with the necessary strength to pull it off yet. And much to the initial objections and disgust of the Slayers, a uniform of sorts had been adopted ... breathable, easily washable one-piece outfits in a variety of colors. The fit of the outfits cut down on the number of clothing-related accidents, as did a somewhat standardized heel height allowed on patrol. It had taken a lot of arguing to get the uniform ratified, but eventually sense had prevailed. They'd been far happier with the weapons upgrades. Aside from the usual stakes (which were being left behind as useless for this particular encounter), everyone was armed with crossbows, knives, daggers, swords, axes, tasers, guns and grenades according to their specific preference, and a variety of more esoteric weapons.

Giles was moving even before Dawn's announcement blared over the campus, heading for his own gear, a grim smile on his face. He had had quite a bit of fun, revamping the Council, arming and protecting the Slayers better, as well as reorganizing and improving training. Armed and ready, he headed out to the main courtyard, where ten teams waited.

Eight of the teams were comprised of ten Slayers, a Watcher, and two Witches. Each knew exactly which floor they'd be landed on and what their objectives were. The two remaining teams were larger, with twenty Slayers, two Watchers and four Witches each. One team was headed for the Atrium, the other for the unknown quantity that was the Department of Mysteries.

"This is the first time we, the New Council, have been called upon to exercise the Emergency Control Clause." Giles said. "I know I can count on each of you to act swiftly, carefully, and professionally. You all know what must be done. Godspeed and good luck! Willow, on your mark."

Willow, who'd already been and gone to Xander by this time, nodded. She was surrounded by Agnes and a full half dozen of the Coven. In a long-practiced drill, the witches spread out into a circle, holding hands. One of the teams immediately stepped into the circle. The witches started to chant, Willow's hair leeching nearly instantly to white. An immense teleport bubble, more than ten times the size of the ones each witch could create alone, surrounded the first team, and they blinked out. Without pause, the second large group marched into the circle, ducking under the witches' joined hands, and was surrounded and teleported away, then the others. The last group was the one Giles was traveling with. The one headed for the 'upper echelons' floor, where the Minister and highest Department Head offices lay.

September 11, Ministry

Slayers, Giles reflected as he stalked through the corridors behind them, made remarkably effective shock troops. Able to move far faster than the average human, the girls stormed the various offices, herding everyone in them away from the fireplaces and their one hope of escape. The witches followed more slowly, going room to room sealing the fireplaces with spells. Giles (acting as the team's Watcher) followed behind and made damn sure no one got the bright idea to try to shoot one of his girls in the back.

Small worry about that, at least here. Most of the people here were frozen in terror. The few who were not frozen were backing into corners. Via his earpiece, he could hear that most of the other floors were experiencing as little trouble. The Atrium and second level groups (the DMLE was on the second level) were having the most difficulty disarming and restraining everyone.

The Mysteries group was encountering the most difficulties not related to crowd control, if the aggravated cursing was anything to go by. There was evidently a good deal of security on the level that they were having difficulties bypassing. For the moment, the Watcher on that level had decided to station two of his girls at the only apparent point of entrance or exit to the level in case anyone got flushed out by their fumbling, and the rest of them would spread out and do what they could.

By the time Giles strolled into the Minister's office, seemingly wholly unconcerned with the chaos and mayhem a dozen girls, armed to the teeth, their faces masks of grim determination, were causing, Fudge had been reduced to complete, utter, gray-faced panic and fear.

Perfect.

"Who are you? What do you want? You can't do this! I'm the Minister for Magic!" Fudge all but wailed.

"You will find, sir, that we can indeed do this." Giles growled. "As for whom we might be, we are representatives of the Watcher's Council. My compatriots are of no concern to you. You may call me Council Director Giles."

Now Fudge was really sweating. "What are you doing here? You have no authority!"

Giles (Ripper, rather!) smiled at the man. "You will find that per the Watcher's Council Pact of 1432, Article Three, Paragraph Two, that I do, in fact, have authority here. 'In the event of active obstruction of a Council Representative's sworn duty to eliminate threats to the human world, the Watcher's Council may deal with such obstruction by whatever means necessary.'. I will grant that it is in somewhat older and far wordier English than we are used to in this day and age, but that is the essential content."

"But why?" Fudge sounded rather like a toddler denied a treat.

"A Prophecy. That you and others have done your damndest to screw up ... when that prophecy predicts your only source of victory." Giles told him, then turned away and calmly began giving orders to his team, ignoring Fudge's continued sputtering. "I want all arms checked. Anyone found wearing the Mark gets marched to the court level. There are cells down there."

That was said more for the benefit of everyone around them ... there had been quite a bit of drilling on what would happen if the project got called into action, and the girls knew the steps by heart. They spread out, immediately frisking everyone. Every wand had already been confiscated, to keep anyone from getting any bright ideas about trying to fight their way free. The Slayers had no problem scaring the crap out of people just being themselves, but Giles refused to put them in a situation where they might have to kill a human. The results tended to be catastrophic. Faith was not the first Slayer to go off the rails after killing a human. Granted, none of the other Slayers had had anything approaching counseling to deal with the matter, but even if the New Watcher's Council had counseling staff on hand, Giles wouldn't be willing to put the girls through that sort of thing unnecessarily.

One by one, the other floors reported in. A full half dozen people were found wearing the mark, working in a variety of departments. All were escorted to the cells to await their fate. The Atrium group finally reported in with all persons checked. That left the Mysteries group.

They had managed to figure out the security feature and disable it finally, which had sped up the search process immeasurably. Unfortunately, unlike the other levels, there was no fairly swift 'all clear'.

"I've got some sort of freaky arch with a veil. Stinks of foul magic like you wouldn't believe." Came the report from one Slayer.

"Room full of devices I don't know what they are. Some look like hourglasses. And there's one very freaky jar with some sort of spell or something on it. It's got a butterfly in it that keeps going from butterfly to cocoon to caterpillar and back to butterfly."

" ... fuck me." That was very quiet. "There are hundreds of thousands of spheres in here. I think they're all prophecies. Just how much have they been hiding from us? We'd have heard about this many prophecies!"

And by far the worst of all. "Holy mother of god! They have a room full of demons, including a goddamned tank full of G'ivitesh! Which the damn idiots put out on display. It's a wonder any of these people are alive! There's a couple demons in here I haven't seen before! They're all in some sort of weird containment. Possibly a spell."

"I want that entire level sealed off. We'll deal with it later." Giles commanded. He looked over at Fudge. "Keeping a few interesting pets about the place, are we? Imbecile." Then, to the girls again. "I want all Department Heads on the top level in the next five minutes. Apologize to the normal citizenry and send them on their way. Ministry employees are to be detained by department."

It was going to be a long, long, long night.

September 12, Ministry

By dawn, Giles had got a firm grasp on the situation. Most of the department workers were fine. A bit weighted down with unnecessary red tape and a fair number of ridiculous, contradictory laws, but overall in good shape. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures didn't have a single semi-intelligent person on the payroll. They had an executioner, a couple of half-wits and layabouts and not much else. And the executioner had had a mark. So that department was going to need some fixing. The other department that was in sorry shape was the one Giles was truly most worried about. The Auror department.

It was clear Amelia Bones had done what she could, but she'd been given nothing to work with. Her entire department was peopled with the old and infirm (Moody, from what Giles had heard, was a damnfine Auror in his day, but at this point he was ill suited for field work), death eaters and their sympathizers (one of the marked had come from that department, and several others were of the same frame of mind, even if they didn't bear the mark) or so young and green you could easily mistake them for a patch of grass. Amelia had perhaps a half dozen Aurors who were at least able to keep their bigotry to themselves in their work, physically fit and had some experience to their names. That was going to be a longer, more complicated fix, but still possible.

Then his phone rang. Xander again. "Moldyshorts has been informed that his life insurance has been cancelled."

"I image he did not take that particularly well."

"We'll probably find out soon enough. How bad is it over there?" Xander sounded faintly amused, a vast improvement on his earlier mood.

"Not as bad as feared. New minister, quite clearly, and a few other positions. The worrying issue is the Aurors."

"Fixable?"

"With time, which we may not have." Giles said.

"I might ... might ... have a solution. The goat's overgrown turkey club. There's bound to be some that work over there, but the ones that don't might be willing to step up."

"Will they do it without direction from Dumbledore?" Giles asks.

"Therein lies the rub. Not sure. Won't hurt to ask."

"Indeed not."


	21. Apocalypse: Hogwarts Part 3 and Voldemort

 

Apocalypse Hogwarts Part 3 Voldemort

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 11, Unknown Location, UK

Lord Voldemort reclined in his throne in the dark, shadowy, stone floored-and-walled room where he held court with his faithful followers. Faithful. Oh, they were faithful, yes, so long as he reminded them of their faith with agony. The loss of Crouch was a felt one. Mad he may have been, but he was loyal, and whatever the outcome, he had fulfilled his task to his Lord, as a faithful subject ought.

Ahhh, the boy. The commonality of their wands would needs be dealt with before next they met. He was willing to admit he had not expected the boy to possess a brother wand. Such a thing was quite rare. He could only imagine the old fool's reaction to the discovery.

There lay a more pleasant thought. Dumbledore was in great difficulties these days ... a fact which had spared Lucius' life when he had reported on his visit to the school. Imagine! Being bested by a muggle! How pathetic. But then, he was coming to expect that of Lucius. The man seemed incapable of performing the simplest task. Voldemort had not yet exhausted his ire over the diary, though Lucius remained unaware of the source of his Lord's great anger. It would not do for any to suspect what the diary had been.

He needed his true followers free. The ones who had not denied their Lord, and had suffered, willingly, rather than betray him. He especially looked forward to Bellatrix's return. She in truth had been his most faithful ... and deadliest ... follower. At the moment he was being forced to make do with the dregs. Pettigrew's snivelling cowardice and Lucius' inability to follow even the simplest of instruction. Mulciber, Crabbe and Goyle senior all did as told, but had between them the intelligence of a particularly backwards worm. The handful or so of others were no better.

The worrying thing was the Potter brat, brother wands aside. Voldemort had entertained himself quite thoroughly with the boy's distress early in the summer, and taunted him with a 'dream' regarding the Department of Mysteries. The boy had been rather unconscionably ignorant of what he was seeing, and therefore immune to worry. Worse, late in the summer, the boy had ceased to react to the dream at all, and Voldemort was at a loss to explain why. He wanted ... needed that prophecy. He needed to know what it said, and strolling into the Ministry to get it himself was not yet an option. Dumbledore would doubtlessly, despite the ill favor he found himself in, rally the old guard together to answer any threat, which brought Voldemort back 'round to needing to free his followers.

He was so deep in his ruminations that the first shivery mental flicker went unnoticed. The second, however, did not, and Voldemort turned his attention to his connection with his followers. The Marks were far more than a device to identify his loyal and summon them with. It was a particularly lethal leash to control them with, subjecting them to agonizing pain until their bodies gave out. It also allowed him to know in which general direction they were, and approximately how far away. He was also able to monitor the Marks themselves, and had been provided some amusement in the days before his attempt to kill Potter. Occasionally, a pureblood would join his ranks only to find themselves horrified with what they were expected to do. Generally, this had resulted in attempts ... some of them quite ingenious, if ultimately futile ... to remove the Mark from their person. It never failed to amuse Voldemort, as there was no way to remove the Marks. He'd made sure of that. Everyone who tried, died ... whether from their attempts to be rid of the Mark, suicide when the attempts failed, or by his hand for betraying their rightful Lord.

The shivery flicker was the warning that someone was trying to affect the Mark. Voldemort turned his attention to the shiver to figure out who. There was always the possibility that one of his true faithful had been driven mad by the dementors and was now acting rashly. He rather quickly ascertained that it was not them. Wrong direction. Wrong direction entirely. In fact ... Snape! It had to be. Lucius was currently at his home, Pettigrew was curled in a corner of the room he was in, hoping to escape notice, several others were at the Ministry, and another couple were elsewhere. Snape was the only one in the direction and at the distance the Mark was indicating.

So the spy showed his true colors. It really was too bad. Voldemort had long suspected that Snape was less than totally loyal ... it was the nature of spies, after all ... but Snape was particularly gifted at Occlumency and clever and sly enough to avoid providing any proof. Until now. He was, Voldemort decided, going to have to ensure that Snape's death was most memorable. With that thought in mind, Voldemort mentally reached out and twisted the Mark.

Something fought back.

September 11, Hogwarts Infirmary

It had taken a while, but eventually Xander, Snape, and Pomphrey headed for the infirmary to deal with Snape's Mark. Fortunately, by then, the Slayers had long since been sent on their way and Willow was free to work her particular brand of magic.

Snape settled on a bed that had been curtained off from the rest of the room and surrounded by silencing spells, just in case. Pomphrey bustled about and dragged what looked like half her supply of medications ... err, potions ... into the curtained-off area, then stood at the head of the bed, wand in hand and as ready for whatever might come as she could be. Willow got herself comfortable in a chair, Snape's arm resting on her lap, which he looked less than happy about. Xander grabbed his own chair and butted it up against Willow's, the better to offer support and encouragement.

Willow wrapped one hand over Snape's Mark, took a deep breath, and started to chant. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then Snape suddenly went rigid, the fingers of his left hand curling into a vaguely claw-like look. His face had gone utterly blank other than the clearly clenched jaw, but what little color he possessed disappeared, making it obvious that he was hurting.

Willow's chanting started sounding more determined, and her hair leeched to white and started to wave in a breeze only she felt. Snape's arm started looking ... well, bad was the only way to put it. Black like the worst case of frostbite or deepest bruise ever, creeping out from under Willow's hand and trying to snake up his arm. Snape's whole body jerked, sweat sprang up on every bit of exposed skin Xander could see, and he lost the battle to keep from making noise, giving a low, grating cry of agony.

Willow frowned in angry determination, and her chant changed. That seemed to help for a bit, allowing Snape to relax a tiny bit, catch his breath, but then he gave an agonized shriek that made Xander cringe and lost control of his body, writhing and jerking on the bed almost like he was having a seizure.

Whatever the heck was going on, it was pissing Willow off something fierce, if her expression was anything to go by. Her chant changed again, became almost a shout, and she actually started to float up out of her chair with the sheer amount of power she was pouring into ... whatever was going on. The entire room was starting to vibrate with it. And then, with a suddenness that startled Xander, the black stain on Snape's arm (which had almost reached his shoulder) disappeared and Snape collapsed into a twitching, gasping, boneless puddle in the middle of the bed. Willow literally crash-landed, slamming down into her chair as her magic wound down. Xander had to move fast to keep her from keeling over and hitting the floor. It took just a glance to see that the fight with Snape's Mark had taken a lot out of her, so Xander gently picked her up and brought her to a nearby bed, leaving Pomphrey to fuss over Snape.

"Did it, Xan." She whispered from where her face was more or less buried against his chest. "Got rid of it." She sounded more like she was asking than stating fact.

"Yeah, you did, my Willow-girl. The Mark was gone when you moved your hand." Xander told her.

"Don'tlike moldybread." came the indistinct mutter as he tucked her in. She sounded for all the world like she was five. "hurtingpeople's ... " she gave a huge yawn. "badman" and she was out like a light.

Xander headed back to see how Snape was faring, and found him asleep as well, with Pomphrey fussing over him.

"I've knocked him out." Pomphrey told Xander. "He needs the rest after that." Then, with a bit of asperity. "And it'll let me treat him without him complaining and arguing every treatment."

"He'll be all right?"

"He will probably require a few days to adapt to being free of that abomination, whatever he may argue to the contrary, but he'll be back to his usual self in no time." Pomphrey said. "I'll check on your friend in a moment."

"She's fine, just tired." Xander said. "I'm not sure what all that was about, but I've a suspicion." He sighed. "I better warn Giles." He grabbed his phone to make the call.

September 11, Voldemort's Lair

Voldemort, despite his anger, found himself intrigued. Apparently Dumbledore had decided to make a concerted effort at ridding Snape of the Mark. Almost lazily, Voldemort twisted again, a bit harder. Let Snape writhe in agony. There was nothing Dumbledore could do.

But then the energy, the magic, increased, stunning Voldemort into inaction for a few seconds as he realized something. This ... this was not Dumbledore. This was not even wand-magic. So they thought an earth-witch would answer where they did not. Voldemort sneered and lashed out, fully expecting to kill not only Snape but the witch.

He got the second great shock of his existence (the first being disembodied when he attacked Potter) when his attack was countered. Successfully. He got the impression of an indomitable will and of immense power barely tapped and tightly controlled. For the first time since he was a child, Voldemort knew fear. He severed all contact, barely wincing when, seconds later, the Mark faded from existence. He was far too busy worrying about something far more important than losing a follower.

Voldemort had learned a great deal about earth magic in his travels. Unfortunately he, like most wand-wizards, had only the most rudimentary ability to use and manipulate earth magic. He understood its precepts though, and its strengths and weaknesses. One of those weaknesses was the fact that earth witches were noticeably weaker than wand-wizards, as for the most part they depended solely on their innate strength, lacking a power-focus like a wand to perform magic with. Every so often, however, an earth witch would pop up who, somehow, ended up able to tap into a source of magic other than that housed in their own bodies, despite still not having a power-focus. The last time an earth witch of that power had been documented was back in the Founders' day. Since then, none had risen beyond the level of minor potions and comparatively small magics. Whoever they'd found, she was as strong as the legends claimed the earth witches of old could be. And such a witch possessed the ability to destroy him utterly, did she discover the means by which he had ensured his immortality. Horcruxes were, by definition, an abomination of nature, and an earth witch of sufficient power could and would destroy them quite easily, where a wand-wizard would have few tools at his command to do so.

He did not dare to check on his existing horcruxes, lest he draw attention to not only their existence but their locations. He was glad, now, that he had made Nagini one. He would have to keep her close, against this witch discovering the others. So long as one Horcrux remained, he would live on. He came to an abrupt decision. Now, more than ever, he needed his faithful.

"Wormtail, your arm, please." He purred. Pettigrew scurried over and offered his arm, visibly trembling a bit as Voldemort pressed his wand-tip to the man's arm, calling his remaining followers to his side.

He was in for another shock when only Lucius and two others arrived. He could sense the others, but they were not attempting to reach him. Most odd. And then Lucius, looking haggard and worn from his previous bouts of dealing with his Lord's displeasure, spoke.

"My Lord, there has been some sort of raid on the Ministry. I only found out about it moments ago, in Diagon Alley. Evidently groups of girls and men apparated in and began a systematic takeover. Those not working in the Ministry were sent on their way unmolested, but the entirety of the Ministry is locked down. There are multiple tales of all Death Eaters that were in the building being marched to the courtoom level." Lucius reported.

It was all Voldemort could do to not shriek in rage. Apparently, Dumbledore had applied to outside agencies for assistance. Very well. He would crush these imbeciles as well. "If it is a war they wish, it is a war they will get. We raze Azkaban to the ground at dawn!"


	22. The Battle For Azkaban

The Battle For Azkaban

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 12, Azkaban, very early morning

In the heavily warded staff room of Azkaban prison, six miserable men sat at a table playing cards. There was a large fire roaring in the fireplace, and all six were well bundled against the pervasive chill that accompanied the presence of a dementor. The entire island was soaked with that chill as the dementors prowled the tiny spit of land and the building that squatted upon it. As the chill was as much mental as physical, heavy robes and warm fires were of little help or comfort.

The six men serving as guards were for the most part hardly the cream of the wizarding crop. As the dementors did most of the work of keeping the inmates under control, the guards' job was pretty much limited to feeding the living inmates and removing and cremating the dead ones. As a result of this, Azkaban had long ago become the place where where disgraced, useless, or 'inconvenient' Aurors were sent to be forgotten about, the dementors' presence nearly as much a punishment for the Auror as it was the inmate. Inconvenient, of course, meaning those Aurors who made political blunders, such as refusing to be bribed silent about incompetency and injustice they observed, among other sins.

Of the six men around the table, five were of the disgraced and useless varietal. The two of them that had proved were hulking bruisers that could easily be mistaken for Cro Magnons ... or relatives of Crabbe and Goyle. They certainly showed about that level of intelligence, enough so that it was a mystery how they qualified as Aurors in the first place. The other three had found themselves shuttled here after one too many 'unfortunate incidents' of one variety or another.

Old Greg Telkin was of the 'inconvenient' varietal. He was a contemporary of Moody's, with a similar, if less paranoid personality, and very nearly as scarred by the innumerable battles he'd fought. He had howled, long and loudly, about the myriad of injustices he'd witnessed during the closing days of the first conflict with Voldemort and in the aftermath, and when he refused to be silent he'd been sent to Azkaban. At that point most folks had ceased to listen to him, because everyone knew that guarding Azkaban was left to the dregs of the Aurors, and therefore Greg was clearly a troublemaker of the first order.

When Amelia Bones had risen to Department Head, she had offered him a post elsewhere on the strength of Moody's testimony in the man's true character. He'd refused it, telling her she needed someone competent to keep an eye on Azkaban. He'd been mightily embarrassed when Black had escaped, but given how that had shaken out, he was glad the lad had managed it. He was not at all surprised the lad had turned up innocent ... not after the shenanigans he'd seen pulled back in those days.

He set his cards down. "Feeding time, gents." He said. "Let's get it done quick so we can get back, yeah?"

The others grunted their agreement and shuffled off to deliver breakfasts. The first they knew of trouble was when, on the way to the storage room where the meals (delivered daily by house elves) were kept, a quartet of dementors swept towards them. Greg aimed his wand at them out of habit. The creatures might keep the inmates cowed and controlled, but they were not above pushing their luck with the guards from time to time. Looked like this was one of those times, as the four of them swept past the mental line on the floor that represented how close Greg was willing to let them get. He fired off his patronus, a big wolf, and the dementors drew back, but did not retreat entirely. They glided around, trying to get past the wolf. That was enough to get the others to act, and a snake, some sort of mangy little mutt and a hawk joined the melee. The two bruisers weren't capable of a full patronus, so didn't even try. The dementors kept circling, trying to penetrate the ring of patroni. Then, beyond them, Greg saw something that made his blood go cold. Four men in very familiar masks that, until last summer, hadn't been seen in more than a decade. And behind them ...

The other guards wailed in terror and started to shake and babble, their patroni sputtering out. Greg, white-faced and grim, knew beyond any doubt that all of them were going to die. There was no way for backup to get here fast enough to stop that. But damn if he would go without a fight. He fairly screamed the most destructive explosion spell he knew, trying for a lucky strike to nail them all. Masonry exploded, tossing everyone but Voldemort off their feet.

The Death Eaters were on their feet in seconds, and the fight was on. Voldemort was hanging back, not actually fighting, for which Greg was dimly grateful, but his presence was doing more than enough damage, as it had frozen the bruisers into terrified immobility. The other three were not at all eager to die and, despite their teeth chattering in terror, were doing their damndest to give as good as they got.

It wasn't enough. Trying to fend off dementors and fight wizards at the same time was just too much. One by one, the guards died. Greg's only comfort as he breathed his last was that in the confusion, he'd been able to fire off a warning to the Ministry. They would not get here in time to stop it, but they would at least know.

September 12, Ministry, very early morning

Giles was sitting in Amelia Bones' office, talking with her about what she needed to get the Aurors back into shape. It had taken a good bit of reassurance and explanation to get to this point, but Amelia had finally been won over and, promised help with the situation she found herself in, had been more than willing to talk. Suddenly, an instrument on her desk started to shriek. Amelia's face went white and stricken.

"Madam Bones?" Giles asked, alarmed by the expression on her face.

"That's the alert for Azkaban. It's to warn of a breakout." Amelia explained.

"You mean someone is there breaking people out." Giles clarified.

"You Know Who, probably." Amelia's expression was extremely pained.

"And you're not scrambling to help ... why?"

"Because it will take better than fifteen minutes to get there from here, as the island is warded against apparation, portkeys and floo travel. By then, he'll have been and gone." Amelia said. She didn't like the idea of losing her people, but there was really no way to stop it.

"It would take that long if it was just your people, madam. However, it is not just you, and we did get in here after all. Get everyone you can trust together in one room as quickly as possible. We'll do the rest." Giles told her.

She gave him a startled look, but then complied, racing out of the room to gather her army.

Giles spoke over the earpiece to the others. "I want every witch capable of the transportation spell on my level in one minute. I also want volunteers to go with the Aurors."

"You got it!" Came the answer from multiple voices.

Less than two minutes later, three witches and a dozen Slayers as well as a dozen Aurors were all standing in a small knot.

"Send the Aurors first. We do not know how to kill dementors yet, and their spell is our only defense against them for the moment." Giles told the witches, then looked over at the Slayers. "I want you girls to protect them and to stick close to them once you're 'ported in. Good luck and godspeed."

September 12, Azkaban

If Greg had lived just a bit longer, he'd have witnessed a rather shocking sight ... that of two dozen people apparently doing the impossible and apparating onto the island, a bit around the corner from the front door on the theory that showing up right in the line of sight of the only way in and out of the place might be a really bad idea.

The Aurors cast their patroni the second they arrived, despite being startled at 'apparating' straight onto the island. That had been their orders, per Amelia Bones. They didn't know what a bunch of teenaged muggles could do to stop Voldemort and his followers from getting off the island, but given how fast they'd taken control of the Ministry, nobody was going to argue too loudly.

Seconds later, the Slayers popped into being behind the Aurors and immediately began taking stock of their surroundings.

"Umm, is anyone else cold and a little miserable?" One frowning Slayer asked, and got a general agreement. "Anyone seeing anything on the other side of the patronus-things?" A bunch of headshakes. "Well shit. That's going to make this harder. Right. Stick really fucking close to your auror, girls." She got a chorus of instant agreement.

The masked Death Eaters had not had a good morning. All of them were more than a bit bloody and battered, but they'd managed to start freeing their fellows, thanks to Pettigrew's cowardice. He shifted to rat form to avoid the blasts, and had run off to 'get help', blasting open the doors of every death eater he could find. Very shortly thereafter, those Death Eaters had rejoined their lord, confiscating the dead mens' wands. All of them fawned on Voldemort, praising him and celebrating his return. Then, they noticed the new additions to the party, and all hell broke loose.

"My Lord!" Lucius cried. He'd been keeping a look out of windows for trouble as they freed their fellows. "A force has arrived on the island. Aurors and ... " He peered closer. "Girls. This may be the same force that took the Ministry, my lord."

Voldemort peered out, and was distinctly unimpressed. "How quaint. They send children to fight." He gave his head a sad shake. "Bellatrix, you may have first choice of target."

"Thank you, my Lord!" Bellatrix breathed, eyes wide. With a more than slightly insane cackle, she howled 'Avada Kedavra', wand pointed at the knot of Slayers.

She promptly discovered the problem with a two-word spell when dealing with Slayers possessed of good hearing and demon-speed reflexes. By the time she'd got the final 'ra' out, the entirety of the new group was flat on the ground, the Slayers having tackled their Auror charges. The green bolt passed harmlessly over everyone's heads.

"Shit! We need some cover, fast!" One of the Slayers, Vi, swore as everyone got back to their feet. The Aurors agreed wholeheartedly, and promptly conjured a stone wall to hide behind before returning to their patroni.

Bellatrix gave an enraged shriek and started throwing all manner of curses. The others followed suit, hammering the Slayers and Aurors' position.

"Right. This is getting us nowhere. Can you boys move those things? We need to get out of their line of sight, draw them out." Vi said.

It took a minute, but the Aurors figured it out and the group retreated around a corner, towards the front door, away from the flying spells.

"Right. They're upstairs somewhere. Let's go." Vi said. "I want half of us to stay out here in case they decide to go out a window or something."

In groups of two, six Aurors and six Slayers headed in, spreading out through corridors, looking for anyone running around free. The others spread out around the base of the building, staying tight against the stonework, to make sure no one got out a window unnoticed.

On the next floor, Voldemort glowered. "Open every cell. Encourage them to escape." He ordered. These dregs would suit well as cannon fodder. And if some survived, they might prove to be of use to him. The Death Eaters instantly obeyed, spreading out through that floor and the ones above, forcing every cell door open as they went.

It didn't take long for people to start flooding the corridor, heading straight for the exit. The group trying to reach the Death Eaters from inside was soon getting overrun with frantic inmates. What advantage they gained by not having to deal with the dementors was gone in the sheer rush of bodies. Slayers were good. They were damn good. But constrained by the rule to not kill humans unless there was absolutely no other choice, and in incredibly tight quarters against a constant influx of people bound and determined to reach the exit, they weren't doing so well. But then, neither were the Aurors. They were firing spells as fast as they could, but again, there were so many bodies flinging themselves towards the door, and willing to use fists, feet, teeth and anything they could get their hands on to get free it was overwhelming. For every three they incapacitated, one got past them, and they were taking a lot of hits in the process.

Outside, things were going better. With more room to maneuver, the Slayers were alternating between picking off the escapees and trying to figure out a way up to Voldemort and his crew from the outside. One of the girls had gotten an insanely lucky hit in with a well-flung knife when someone had stuck their wand and hand out a window in an attempt to hex the groups hugging the walls.

"Shit. This is getting us nowhere. Time for a Plan X." Vi groused.

"I'm almost afraid to ask." Another Slayer, one of the ones that hadn't been in Sunnydale or found by Xander in Africa commented.

"How's your aim?"

"As good as yours, why?"

Wordlessly, Vi grabbed one of her grenades, then looked up at the second-story windows.

The other Slayer's eyes widened as she caught on, then she grinned viciously. "Right. Gotcha. Plan X. But why X?"

"Because variants on this theme seem to be Xander's specialty. Hence X." Vi supplied.

"Oh, right, gotcha."

Several grenades (and one good-sized hole) later, the Slayers had their way onto the second floor. Getting the Aurors up was a bit trickier, but they managed it, and then the fight was really on.

"Oh, holy fugly. And I thought demons were ugly." Was one slayer's muttered comment when Voldemort was spotted briefly. The Death Eaters were throwing spells as fast and hard as they could, backing away from the oncoming defenders. The Slayers were throwing every throw-able weapon they had on them at the retreating group while the Aurors alternated between providing cover and trying to get a hex in. And then the Death Eaters copied the Slayers' trick of going through a wall.

"They're on the run!" Vi bellowed.

The Slayers and Aurors on the first floor promptly headed out, the Aurors firing stunning spells at the slowly-thinning crowd of inmates as they went. The group that had made it upstairs followed the DE's out the hole they'd made and gave chase, but it was no good. The dementors raced between the defenders and the Death Eaters, forcing the defenders to fall back just long enough for Voldemort and his followers to make it to the water and be able to apparate out of there. Some dozen people, Voldemort included, managed to escape, and then the dementors fled over the water themselves.

Vi sighed heavily and reported in. "Giles, they managed to get away. About a dozen, all told, but most are injured, a couple fairly badly. We're going to stay and help get the not-quite-escapees locked up again. Bastard opened practically every cage in the place."

September 12, Voldemort's Lair

Five left, twelve returned. It was a net gain ... and a net loss at the same time. Only Voldemort himself remained uninjured, the most severely injured being Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus. Bellatrix had taken a knife through the hand when she'd attempted to curse the defenders outside the jail, and Rodolphus had nearly had his leg amputated just below the hip by a particularly accurately thrown dagger. Both would be healed and ready to work within a day, but the delay was vexing.

"Who are they? Where do they come from? I want answers!" Voldemort commanded. "Interrogate whom you must, but have answers before you return!" He snarled, banishing them all from his sight with the words. They knew well enough to go without him actually having to say it.


	23. Meetings and Madness

Meetings and Madness

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 12, Hogwarts

Sunrise found most of the staff except Trelawney, Binns, and a still-sleeping Snape in the Great Hall, talking animatedly. Sirius was off to one side, talking to a number of the more 'animated' ghosts of the castle ... evidently, he'd taken Xander's comment about the ghosts as guest speakers and was running with it. McGonagall, Flitwick, and Remus were in another knot, talking over plans to teach the kids defense and secure the castle against the worst case scenario of Voldemort attacking the school. The rest of the teachers were having the time of their lives making wishlists ... books they wanted to add to their syllabi, equipment they'd like to get to aid with classes, and other such things. Stuff they'd wanted for years, but been denied. Xander wandered from group to group and eavesdropped a good bit, but didn't add his own ideas to the growing lists. Frankly, he didn't have much to add. The teachers were all essentially good people who knew their craft. Trelawney, with her tendency to predict the death of a student every year and Binns with his monotone verbatim quoting of the book seemed to be the exceptions to the rule. Everyone else had just been stymied in their attempts to do their jobs right.

Then his phone rang. "Hey Giles. How's things?" Xander asked when he answered it. "Fuck. Thanks for the warning. We'll have this place sealed up asap." Then he hit the end button, only to make another call. "Faith, get Spike and get down to the Great Hall. We're going to need all the hands we can get."

By then, of course, he had most folks' attention. He glanced around, then sighed. "Right, everyone, listen up! Voldemort just raided Azkaban." There were shrieks from several of the teachers, while the rest settled for shudders and grim-faced fear. "So as of now, securing the school takes precedence over everything else. Any and all suggestions towards that end will quite happily be heard out and if they're at all feasible, used."

That shifted the direction of the talk rather quickly. After a few hesitant moments, suggestions started flying. Sirius sent Dobby to borrow Harry's map, and soon the staff, Xander, Spike and Faith were standing around the Head Table, pointing to various spots and hashing out the whats, wheres, and whos of the defense. They were still at it almost two hours later when they were abruptly snowed under by owls, all of them headed for McGonagall.

It took the staff quite some time to settle the owls enough to get the letters, and then help McGonagall read them all. Once they had, McGonagall sighed. They were all from worried, frantic parents. Word of the attack had spread, and combined with the takeover at the Ministry, people were freaking out left, right, and center.

"Most of them are wanting to take their children home." She said.

"That's really fuckin' stupid." Faith commented. "I mean, if it were as bad as they're thinkin' it is, bringin' defenseless kids into the middle of it is a really fuckin' stupid move. The kids're safe here, 'cording to them, 'cause of Big D, so why in the hell are they wanting to take their kids outta here?"

"I quite agree with you, Miss Faith." Flitwick said. "It's a most foolhardy move. We shall simply have to placate and reassure them." He sighed. "At least, for once, it will be the truth. I quite disliked attempting to reassure everyone when the Chamber was reopened. We were rather blatantly lying through our teeth. I shall never understand why Dumbledore insisted on everyone staying in the castle. I felt it would have been far safer to close the school for a time." Then he smiled. "Of course, now that I know a bit more of what happened, closing the school would not have actually solved the Chamber problem, only deferred it, but it was still rather an uncomfortable position to be in."

"And too, Miss Faith." Said Pomona. "Their belief in Dumbledore has been given a good hard shake or three since they found out about his actions regarding Mr. Black. They might not be as sure of their childrens' safety as they once were."

"Point." Faith admitted.

So McGonagall wrote what amounted to a form letter, reassuring and calming in tone, and sent it out to most of the parents. The ones that remained got a similar letter, but as McGonagall knew the parents in question to be exceedingly hard-headed, there were some lies added as well to keep them from doing something rather stupid. Mostly the lies were to the effect that Dumbledore had everything in hand, since the majority of the hardheads would be reassured by that.

About the time she got that done, another, smaller raft of owls appeared, this time from members of the Order, all demanding an emergency meeting. That was an easy enough request to grant. Less than an hour after that, the first of the Order began to arrive and gathered in the meeting room behind the Great Hall. And just Xander's luck, the one leading the charge was Molly Weasley.

"Where is the Headmaster? What's going on? Have you heard? The Death Eaters attacked ... " And then she clapped eyes on Xander. "YOU!" She bellowed, and headed straight for him, murder in her eye. "You! What have you ... " She cut off with a shriek.

Xander snickered. Faith, who had been leaning against the bookshelves, had darted forward and grabbed Molly by the hair, rather abruptly stopping Molly's charge. "Yo, lady. Calm down and step away from X-man."

"How dare you!" Molly shrieked, whirling on Faith and apparently as content with one target as another. Xander was just relieved she hadn't gone for her wand. That would have ended very badly. For her. "I don't know who you are or where you came from but you have no business interfering here! Now where is the Headmaster?"

"There is no Headmaster." Xander said, irritated enough with the woman to yank her chain. "There is a Headmistress."

Molly got a stricken, horrified look on her face. "He ... died?" She asked in a surprisingly small, frightened voice. "How? What do we do now? He was the only one who could stand against You Know Who!"

Somehow, Xander managed not to facepalm, but it took a herculean effort. "Oh, my god. You have got to be kidding me. So ... absolutely no one else in the world can possibly do anything about Voldemort ever, so you're just going to ... what? Roll over and die?" He glanced over at McGonagall. "Are the rest of them like this?" He didn't even bother commenting on Molly taking him at his word with no evidence to back him up. Talk about stupid.

She sighed. "Not all, no, but some. The rest will be here soon."

"Right. In the meantime, you sit down and behave yourself. The dark-haired gal there takes a dim view to people trying to hurt me." Xander told Molly. Faith backed that up with a positively lethal glare that succeeded in making Molly blanch.

Within ten minutes, the last of the Order arrived ... being Moody, Tonks, a singed and slightly tired-looking Kingsley, and Arthur. Molly practically climbed Arthur the moment he came in the door, looking incredibly relieved as she clung to him, muttering fiercely as she filled him in on her version of events.

McGonagall looked at Kingsley. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Minerva." Kingsley rumbled. "It's been an interesting twelve hours, however." And then he turned to survey Xander.

Xander eyed the man right back. He was big and solid, had an air of unflappable calm and that indefinable 'something' that inclined a person to trust him. Xander rather approved of the man. This was a guy that got things done with minimal fuss and bother.

"You must be Xander." Kingley said after a moment. "Giles mentioned you were one of his."

"Yeah, that's me. This is Faith. Spike's in the corner over there." Xander pointed to Faith and Spile. Spike had contented himself with watching the Order members arrive and keeping a second pair of sharp eyes on Molly, who seemed by far to be the most inclined to rash action.

"Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, Arthur, if you would be so kind as to fill us all in on what happened at the Ministry and Azkaban?" McGonagall asked.

The four of them bounced the tale of the takeover of the Ministry and defense of Azkaban between them. At the end, Kingsley spoke. "These Council people have managed in less than a day to do what we've been trying so hard to do for the last twenty years or so ... cut out the greed, corruption, and incompetence in the Ministry. The Death Eaters we all knew to be working there are currently in holding cells. So is Fudge. Mr. Giles has been working with Amelia all night to figure out how to bolster the Auror division. He sent some of his own people to help stop Voldemort, and if it hadn't been for them, Voldemort would have been able to empty the place before we even got there. As it was, he only managed to free a handful of his followers. Everyone else is back locked up tight."

"But he still has more people! And ... " Molly sputtered.

"And Dumbledore has been removed from power as well." McGonagall said. "And not before time, might I add. Even with just what he did to Sirius, he belongs in jail, not playing Headmaster."

"But he's our only hope!" Molly wailed again. Quite a few people agreed with her, rather noisily.

Spike's voice cut across the din. "Yeah, yeah. He's the only one who the scaly wanker is scared of. That might possibly be because Dumbledore was the only one of you lot that's had the curlies to fight the bastard. How many of you worthless wankers've even seen the bastard, much less fired a spell at him?"

"Most of the ones that did are dead, lad." Moody filled him in. Himself and Dumbledore were the only ones who had tossed a spell at Voldemort and survived to tell the tale. That said, he did agree with Spike. The remaining members of the Order, almost without exception, had been the ones who hadn't been on the front lines.

"Yeah, and that sucks, but that's war, innit? Y'either fight and die on your feet or ya end up dyin' on your knees. Now, you lot might be fine with rollin' over an lettin' the Big Bad kick your asses without a fight, an' if that's so, then be my guest and go die. Y'won't be missed." Spike made a contemptuous shooing gesture.

"Spike!" Xander scolded. He was nowhere near as irritated as he sounded, which Spike was aware of. After all, Xander agreed with Spike wholeheartedly ... Spike just tended to be a whole lot more blunt about it than people liked.

"What? It's the truth, innit? Bloody cowards. Least with Sunnydale, the prime on the hoof didn't realize there was a war that needed fightin'. This lot knows, and they all wanna hide behind the whiskered wanker." Spike turned back to the wizards. "As I was sayin', y'wanna be a bunch of cowards and die, go do it. But if you're tired of this bloody scaly bastard runnin' you lot ragged, then bloody well grow some curlies and do something about it!"

"But what?" Someone asked.

"Take the war to him. You all were here the first time. You all know who he's likely to ally with. Cut him off at the pass. Wipe out the truly evil creatures, give types like werewolves an option other than 'starve to death', and make damn sure the fence-sitters know the price they'll pay if they join Voldemort's camp." Xander explained, taking up where Spike left off. "If people know that joining Voldemort will see their assets seized, their homes raided, and themselves arrested, they'll be a lot less keen on playing bad guy."

"But we can't enforce that sort of campaign!" Tonks yelped.

"Maybe not when Fudge was in charge, but he's not anymore, remember? The Council will quite happily cut through the bullshit you normally would have had to deal with in order to get this done. You just have to want it." Xander told them.

That got some muttering, but of the hopeful, thoughtful variety. The meeting broke up somewhat, with most of the Order members separating into knots as they tried to figure out what they were going to do. The teachers had to leave, as the kids were starting to trickle into the Great Hall for breakfast.

The morning mail owls swooped in, and Harry, who'd been among the first to arrive, got quite a pleasant surprise as Hedwig zeroed in on him. Very shortly, quite a few people were snickering, as Hedwig alternated between swatting at Harry with her wings, snapping at him with her beak ... and cuddling up to him, hooting, cackling, and clattering her beak the entire time, sounding like a scolding mother. Harry himself seemed caught between laughter and apology.

"Easy, Hedwig, easy! I'm sorry, all right? I didn't want you left behind either, but Sirius needed your help. I didn't trust any other owl to do it right." He told her, petting her breast in an attempt to calm her down.

That seemed to settle Hedwig somewhat, though she refused to leave Harry's shoulder for the entirety of breakfast, settling in to preen her human's hair contentedly in between accepting the bits of bacon and sausage Harry kept passing her.

Once breakfast was eaten, McGonagall stood up. "It is my solemn duty to inform everyone that in the early hours of this morning, Voldemort attacked Azkaban. He was able to free seven of his followers and the dementors have left the island." Most of the kids cried out and started looking really scared. "I wish to assure you that we will do everything in our power to ensure your continued safety here at school. To that end, today's scheduled classes have been cancelled, and all students will be participating in practical DADA and dueling lessons. First and second years will be working with Professors Harris and Hooch. Third and fourth years will be working with myself, Professors Black and Vector. Fifth, sixth, and seventh years will be working with Professors Lupin, Sprout and Flitwick. I would like to see the prefects, Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, and the Head Boy and Girl immediately after breakfast."

"Where's Professor Snape?" One of the Slytherins called out.

"Professor Snape is currently in the infirmary. Rest assured, he is not in dire straits. He merely had a slight mishap with an experimental potion. He will be rejoining us tomorrow." McGonagall said. Fortunately, Snape did experiment with potions, and they had gone wrong in the past.

Eventually, everything broke up. The various groups went their ways. Hooch and Xander hauled the first and second years to a large, unused classroom. Xander knew they weren't going to be able to teach the kids much in one day, but that was hardly the point of the exercise. The kids were scared to death. Teaching them something they could use to fight back with, however small, would help them immensely.

"Right." Xander said, after the group assembled in one of the largest unused classrooms. "Not going to lie to you kids. You're young, you don't know much magic, and you're at a really bad disadvantage in a fight. That said, you're not utterly helpless ... Madam Hooch and I will be spending today showing you what you can do if trouble comes calling."

They spent the day teaching kids to use the spells they knew to devastating effect. Lumos at close range could dazzle an attacker. Wingardium Leviosa was capable of rather devastating results (just ask Harry, Ron, and Hermione), the list went on. They just had to think of the spell in a slightly different light. For the first years, who'd been in the castle less than a month and knew maybe three spells, Hooch introduced them to the spells they'd have learned later in the year and helped them start to get a handle on the spells. Xander spent the time teaching the kids a few of the easiest moves he'd taught Harry and Hermione.

Much the same thing was happening with the third and fourth years, though their range of spells was, of course, greater. Sirius was taking care of teaching the kids the physical attacks.

It was the fifth through seventh years that were getting the workout. Remus and Flitwick were ensuring the kids knew all the spells up to their year backwards and forwards, which was no small undertaking, given the multiple years of spotty teaching. They then introduced them to the Patronus spell, since the dementors were now at large. Remus, with backup from Harry and Hermione, was also teaching everyone the physical attacks.

They were aware that, at that level, they might be training the enemy, but they point-blank refused to cut anyone out. If the kids tried something later, they'd be dealt with, but for now, they would be allowed to learn to defend themselves the same as everyone else.

To say it was a long but very interesting day rather vastly understated the case, but despite the seriousness of the situation, Hogwarts was humming with an energy it hadn't had in a very long time. The kids might be scared and worried, but they also had hope, and were feeling a bit more confident than they would have otherwise.

It wasn't until after dinner that Xander finally had time to deal with Dumbledore again. He headed for the man's room, and found him sitting in a chair, reading and looking for all the world like there wasn't a thing wrong. Xander snarked mentally, then grabbed a second chair and plopped down in it, staring at Dumbledore.

"So. You going to fill me in on everything you've been up to, or do I get to get creative and force it out of you?"

Dumbledore regarded Xander sadly. "Meeting violence with violence is never the answer." He said.

Xander blinked at him. "You have got to be shitting me. So ... these people are killing and torturing at will, and you want everyone to what, just let them?"

"They deserve a chance to ... " Dumbledore started.

Xander immediately cut him off. "They've had their chance, old man. Had it and are up to their old tricks. At this point, they're free game, and I have no problem teaching anyone who is willing to learn how to put them down like the rabid dogs they are. Now, again ... are you going to tell me what you know and have been up to, or do I haul Spike in here and let him introduce you to how he got his name?"

Dumbledore studied Xander's resolute face for a long moment, then sighed. "As I have no wish to be irreparably maimed ... very well, I shall tell you what you need to know."

And for the next couple hours, Dumbledore talked. About the Tom he'd known and watched go through school. About Voldemort later on. About the war and what it had been costing them, and the prophecy and its to-yet-be-seen fulfillment.

He succeeded in scaring Xander half to death. Not because any of the information was particularly shocking or worrisome, but because of how blind and self-deluded Dumbledore had been and continued to be about his actions and the events of the past. Dumbledore's thoughts and actions were always correct and necessary 'for the greater good', and any possible repercussions, many of which had the potential to be infinitely worse than the problem he was trying to solve in the first place, ignored utterly. He was, after all, doing the Right Thing and nothing would or could go badly, because he was Albus Dumbledore.

Xander had a time of it keeping his mouth shut and not arguing. This wasn't about convincing Dumbledore he was wrong, at least not yet. This was about finding out what the old goat knew. And then Dumbledore, quite calmly, commented that for the prophecy to be fulfilled, Harry would have to die.

Xander damn near killed the son of a bitch then and there, restraining himself with utmost difficulty. "Explain." He snarled in a voice that would have had Angelus running for cover. "Now."

"I have come to suspect in the last few years that Tom ensured his immortality by a most foul and Dark means ... the creation of a horcrux. Unfortunately, I believe there to be more than one of them. They are ... bits of soul, torn off and stored elsewhere. So long as one exists, he cannot be killed. And I believe that Harry's scar is one such horcrux. To be rid of it, and thus Voldemort, Harry must die."

"Because there is no other way to deal with a horcrux." Xander spat, plainly disbelieving, his tone dripping enraged sarcasm, which Dumbledore seemed to miss entirely.

"I'm afraid not. And I fear that due to the location of the scar, Voldemort has access to Harry's mind, and has been influencing him. He has had some rather ... worrying dreams he's told me of." Dumbledore sounded properly sad and worried about that. "So you must see that I have been doing as I must."

Xander made a strangled noise of pure rage. "I should let Spike drain you and make you into a minion so I can tear you to bits over and over, old man. Killing you once will not be at all satisfying." He shot to his feet, fists clenched as he fought the urge to pummel the bastard. "Dobby!"

The little elf popped in, giving Dumbledore a lethal glare. "Dobby, I want this room stripped of everything. All portraits, books, everything. He gets a student bed, one set of plain robes, and no other belongings. Three plain, basic meals a day. He is forbidden any communication with the outside world, and all possible methods of egress are to be sealed tight when I leave."

Then he looked at Dumbledore. "That is your punishment, old man. You will live out your life in these rooms, unwanted, ignored, forgotten, with nothing to do and no one to speak to. I hope you live a very, very long time." And he stormed out.

Luck was with him, as he ran into Faith as he stormed through the castle. She got one look at his face, grabbed his arm and hauled him into an unused classroom. Once the door was closed, she took a swing at him. That was all it took for Xander to let loose and start trying to pound the crap out of her. It felt good to let go, to vent some of the rage that was bubbling just under the surface. Better, he didn't really have to try to moderate his attacks as Faith was more than able to handle him, even (perhaps especially) when he was enraged to the point of not being able to see straight. Eventually, he ran out of energy and collapsed down onto the floor. Faith, a bit bruised (mostly her arms) and out of breath from fending him off, sat down nearby.

"So, you gonna explain what's got you raging?"

"Dumbledore." Xander growled, then sighed. "I need to talk to Willow in the morning."


	24. Preparations For War

Preparations For War

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 13, Hogwarts

In all the confusion, Xander had completely forgotten about Wesley. Turned out it was just as well, as the situation in Cleveland had been a touch trickier to deal with than expected (like that was news), and Wesley hadn't been sent on his way until much later than expected. He arrived an entire day later than expected, a bit before breakfast, when the staff had gathered in the meeting room behind the Great Hall again.

By then, Willow had woken up and had joined them. She was garnering a lot of very curious looks from the staff, and Flitwick looked like he wanted nothing more than to corner her and interrogate her, positively eaten alive with curiosity. Xander hadn't told her about the horcruxes yet. To be honest, he was still figuring out how to tell her without triggering a Darth Willow moment. Lord alone knew he'd very nearly had one himself, and was still raging. Still, he greeted Wesley warmly.

"Hey, Wesley. Glad to have you in the madhouse. We can so definitely use you. Everybody, this is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. He's going to be assisting Professor Burbage in Muggle Studies. Wesley, this is ... " And he went around the group identifying all the staff. "Hey, speaking of ... McGonagall, any idea when Hagrid will be returning?"

Wesley looked slightly discomfited at being the center of so much attention and cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure to make everyone's acquaintance. I'm looking forward to assisting Miss Burbage." He shot Xander an exasperated look (for dropping him in the deep end like that) that had the nearest staff grinning.

"Hagrid will be returning next week, I believe." McGonagall said. "So much has happened in the last few days it's hard to keep track."

"Not blaming you there. This is a bit on the hectic side even for a Scooby." Xander said, succeeding in confusing everyone except for Wesley and Remus.

At that point a few more people showed up ... Faith and Spike. Both of them were smirking like they'd pulled the world's biggest heist and hadn't got caught.

Xander narrowed his eye at them. "All right, you two. What did you do?"

"Us, pet? Not a thing. Blame tall dark and greasy. He's got the nurse in a right snit. Heard them bellowing at each other from the next floor down, didn't we?" Spike grinned hugely.

Somehow, Xander had a feeling there was more to it than that, but right about then, Snape stalked in, having successfully won free of Pomphrey's clutches. The change in him was ... startling. He was still wearing all black. He was still ugly and his hair was still greasy. He hadn't become a stunning beauty or a pure-hearted nice guy overnight. He had, simply put, become more, as if he'd been firing on eight cylinders out of twelve, and now had all twelve firing. His eyes were blazing, there was a blush of color to his face and the faintest of curves to the corners of his lips, lending him a nearly maniacal look. Energy and vitality almost visibly crackled around him. Xander got the distinct impression that if Snape had been of an entirely different personality, he'd have been bouncing on the balls of his feet ala Spike anticipating a really good fight. He kind of pitied anyone who crossed Snape now. The guy'd been a menace before. Now he was as close to terrifying as any human could get for a Scooby. Snape nodded respectfully to Willow, then to McGonagall.

McGonagall gave him a long look, visibly torn between concern and amusement. "Are you supposed to be out of the infirmary yet, Severus?" She wanted to know.

"I assure you, Minerva, that I am quite well." Snape said. "May I presume that plans have gone forward to secure the castle?"

"We've been planning things out." Xander said. "But got a little sidetracked yesterday with keeping the kids busy and not panicking."

Snape's mouth twisted into a sardonic grin. "I take it the ... " He stopped, then started again. "Voldemort did not take my removal from his grasp well?"

"Not a bit of. He attacked Azkaban."

"I see. And it has been emptied?" Snape looked less than pleased at the news.

"Not even close. He got some six or seven people out, but that was it." Xander filled him in.

One of Snape's eyebrows rose. "You will, I trust, find it convenient to fill us in on how you manage these things?"

"Only if you want to become a Watcher. We have to have some secrets!" Xander told him with a grin.

"I will require most of the morning with my Slytherins." Snape told McGonagall, shifting gears. There was an edge in his voice that said the Slytherins were in for it. Xander felt very, very sorry for the lot of them. "After that, if you require their assistance in securing the castle, they will be available to you. I would like, however, to have the assistance of certain of my NEWT level students. There are a number of potions we will be needing in quantity, and others that will be of use in defense."

"We need the twins to help secure the castle, but anyone else is yours." McGonagall agreed. Snape nodded, turned, and headed into the Great Hall.

"Holy ... what did you do to him?" Breathed Burbage, eyes wide.

"Nothing he didn't ask for." Xander said. He wasn't sure if everyone knew Snape had been a spy, and wasn't about to bray his business all over the place.

They eventually headed out to breakfast, and were joined at the Head table shortly thereafter by much of the Order. Once breakfast was done, the kids in fifth, sixth, and seventh year were split amongst McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Faith, Spike, Remus and Sirius, and they split up, each in charge of arranging defenses for a different section of the castle. The rest of the staff conducted classes for the first through fourth years.

The twins and the Marauders were taking care of the tunnels into the castle ... the weakest point of the castle's defense, though not for long. Xander hadn't asked beyond making sure that everyone in the castle could get out via the tunnels if it became necessary. The expressions on the foursome's faces had been more than enough to make him decide he did not want to know what they were going to arrange for incoming raiders.

Pomona, Neville and a selection of other top Herbology students were busy arranging some plant-based surprises around the perimeter of the castle's wards, and closer in to the castle itself. McGonagall, Flitwick, Faith and Spike were busy dealing with the castle itself, sealing every door and window, or if a window provided a good firing line on the likeliest approaches, ensuring it could be blocked off quickly if it had to be abandoned. The Quidditch pitch, as the closest substantial cover to the castle other than the forest, was laced with traps and, in case it became necessary, explosives. Catapults and rather explosive ammunition were put up on the roof to fend off potential flying incoming as well as ground-bound trouble.

The Slytherins appeared in time for lunch, all drawn, pale, and thoughtful looking. A few of them looked positively green. Snape looked smugly evil, or was that evilly smug? Either way, he was entirely pleased with whatever he'd done and/or said to the Slytherins. He immediately tagged his best Potions students, and they disappeared into the dungeons to brew, while the older Slytherins were split up amongst whichever team needed them and the younger ones were sent to classes.

Midday, a team of twenty Slayers arrived, were joined by Faith and Spike ... and proceeded to go through the forest like a dose of salts. They couldn't kill off all the evil creatures, not in one go, but they could and did put a sizeable dent in the population, and made a point of pushing everything nasty away from the school. The smarter creatures, like the acromantulas, got the point and scuttled into the depths of the forest. The centaurs were not best pleased to have 'men' in their woods, but when those 'men' are teenaged girls who can break you in half as soon as look at you, the centaurs eventually decided to let be. Besides, the girls were eliminating threats, not centaurs, unicorns, and other non-evil creatures.

Willow spent the morning working on a way to make absolutely sure Dumbledore didn't escape his temporary prison. There was no way the old goat was staying in the castle forever. Given the existence of Fawkes, him actually staying in there had thus far depended on the idea he might not want to leave the school. It was, after all, his power base. How long that would last when he had been deprived of pretty much everything, no one wanted to find out. The problem was compounded by the necessity of a house elf going in and out to deliver food and clean the place.

Xander spent the day avoiding Willow. Err, with Harry, doing vital work to secure the castle. So he still didn't know how to tell Willow about the horcruxes without her going nuclear, sue him! Besides, a lot had happened since he'd last talked to Harry. That was how they found themselves in a remote corner of the castle, far from pretty much everyone else, and honestly not really doing much of anything to secure the castle except poking their noses into corners. Harry was being rather quieter than he usually was, so eventually Xander spoke up.

"You ok?" Xander wanted to know.

"Yeah." Harry said.

"Oh, that sounded convincing." Xander said with a grin. "You want to try that one a second time? I might actually believe it the second go round."

Harry huffed at him. "Ok, so I'm not all that ok. I only just got a war started ... "

"Hold it right there, short stuff." Xander said, holding out one hand. "You didn't start anything, much less a war. This takeover thing was pretty much inevitable, given how utterly corrupt the government was. It was only a matter of time until something touched it off. And you did the right thing coming to me about that quill. No one has the right to hurt you Harry, not anyone, not ever. I know it was easier to keep your mouth shut and your head down with the Dursleys, but you've got to get out of that mindset."

"What would you know about it?" Harry wanted to know, his tone not quite hostile but remarkably close.

"My parents weren't exactly prizes, Harry. Don't think they were quite as bad as your aunt and uncle, but they were bad enough. Shit, I'd graduated high school before I learned to stand up for myself." Ok, truth be told he hadn't figured that one out until Africa, but he had eventually figured it out. "As for the Dork Lard, don't worry. I think we've pretty much got that one sorted. Just need to do a couple things, then draw him out and smack him down but good."

Harry snickered a bit at Xander's continued mangling of Voldemort's name. "The problem's going to be getting him out of hiding." He said. "He'd need bait ... "

"Oh hell no, Harry. Do not even begin to think of going there." Xander said, wide-eyed. "You've got a line-up of people a mile long who will be quite happy to kick your ass for even thinking of dangling yourself out the window as bait, and you'd be lucky if it was Dobby that got to you first! Good god, Harry. Your life's worth more than that."

Harry gave a bit of a shaky laugh. "Yeah, starting to get that general gist, between you, Sirius and Remus."

"Good to have a family, isn't it?" Xander asked with a grin. "Doesn't matter if they're blood related, either. Actually, the not-blood-related kind of family is better, if you ask me. Blood family doesn't have a choice who they're family to. The ones that pick you up and stick with you and make you family, though, they're in it 'cause they want to be, and that sort of family will go to the ends of the earth and beyond when one of their own's in trouble."

"Like you and the Scoobies?"

"Hell yes. We fought like cats and dogs sometimes and went through some rough patches." Xander said then gave a mental snort. Angelus, Darth Willow, the Initiative and the First (well, the emotional and personal snafu's surrounding those last two), rough patches. Heee. "But anything with a lick of sense knew that hurting one of us brought the wrath of the entire group down on their heads." Of course, that didn't stop the worst of them, but it had succeeded, especially in later years, in keeping some minor baddies at bay, since they didn't want to tangle with the group as a whole.

They were quiet for a bit, then, as they were checking another room, Harry piped up again. "How do you deal with it?" Harry asked

Xander didn't pretend to misunderstand the question. "Day by day. Except for when the shit really hits the fan, and then it's second by second, because looking any further ahead scares me half to death. But it's a little different for me than what you're up against, Harry. Nobody looks to me as the savior of the world. I'm just supporto-guy."

Harry actually laughed. "Which would be why you have titles in the demon world, right?"

Xander griped. "Stupid Angel, stupid preacher." Stupid demons that perpetuated the stories and had created the names. Gah.

"Ok, explain that one please?"

"It was Angel that first called me White Knight, stupid bastard." Xander said. Thanks to Spike, everyone knew about Angel about two days after they'd settled in at the cottage. "God, how I hated him. Everyone thought it was because I had the hots for Buffy, and ok, that was some of it, 'cause let's face it, she's not exactly hard on the eyes, but even before we knew what he was, there was just ... I didn't like him. Didn't trust him. Turned out to be a good thing, even if Buffy still doesn't understand why I can't stand him. Anyway, at one point he called me Buffy's White Knight. He must've mentioned it to some other demons, because they picked the name up and started using it."

"And the preacher?"

"Said I saw too much, wanted to know if I'd see as much blind, and poked out my eye." Xander practically growled. "Somehow or other, that ended up with me being called 'The One That Sees'. Don't ask me to explain demon logic." That one was still a bit of a touchy subject, even a few years in. But then, the entire First fiasco was a bit of a touchy subject for everyone who'd survived it.

Harry looked horrified. "Oh hell. I'm sorry."

"S'ok. Not like you knew." Xander said. "But really, I'm not the bigwig. I just damn well refuse to give up, and have a tendency for thinking outside the box to fix problems."

Harry laughed. "If the way you've gone about working the Voldemort problem is any indication, I don't think you even realize there is a box."

Xander just smirked at him. "Hey, it works."

"Yeah, it does seem to." Harry admitted, then let out a sigh. "I suppose we better get on with checking rooms."

"Yeah. Need to get this place sealed up tight." Xander said as they headed into the corridor and towards the next room. "How's Ron been?"

"Eerily quiet. He hangs out around us, but he doesn't say much. He's even stopped arguing with Hermione. It's ... rather unnerving sometimes. Makes me wonder if he's someone else on polyjuice or something."

"Maybe he realizes finally how badly he's messed up but doesn't know what to do next?" Xander offered.

"Maybe. It's still weird."


	25. The War Begins

The War Begins

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 13, Hogwarts

Eventually, around dinnertime, Xander manned up and pulled Willow aside. "Willow, we kinda need to talk, and I need you to promise me you won't go all witchy on me."

Willow eyed him for a long moment. "What did you do, Xander?" She asked, half-laughing. "Blow up the queer ditch pitch ... "

"Quidditch, Willow. Careful! There's kids around here who'd lynch you for mispronouncing it." Xander said with a grin. "They get a little testy about that game in these parts."

Willow flapped a hand at him. "Quid-ditch then." She said. "What's wrong, mister. You never do the we need to talk, don't get witchy thing unless something's wrong, and I always end up being witchy anyway 'cause it's usually something bad, so just spill."

"I know what the deal is with Harry's scar." Xander said. "It's something called a horcrux. Basically, it's a piece of Voldemort's soul that he ripped off in order to help make him immortal. As long as even one piece of his soul exists, he can't actually die."

Willow's mouth flapped open for a moment. For a moment, Xander thought maybe, just maybe, they'd get through this without Willow going nuclear. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that Willow had just needed a few seconds to process what she'd been told, because her expression twisted in rage, her fists clenched, and the classroom Xander had pulled her into to tell her started to vibrate. Worse, her hair started darkening. No veins or black eyes yet, but they'd be next.

"Willow! Willow, no! Calm down, Wills. Please?" Xander.

"I am going to wipe him out." Willow growled, her voice starting to get that uber-creepy edge to it.

"No, Willow!" Xander said, grabbing for her arms. "I won't let you do that. I can't."

"Why not? He is nothing but hate and fear and death. He needs to be destroyed!" Willow's hair darkened further.

"You're right, but I won't let you do it, Wills. Because if you did, you'd end up as bad as him, and I kind of like my Willow-shaped friend just the way she is. We will deal with him, Willow, but I refuse to let you be the one to kill him. It would destroy you. So please, for me?"

She glared at him. "Promise me."

"Oh, I promise you. That sick asshole's dead meat. If at all possible, I'll put an axe through his head personally."

"But why can you kill him and I can't?" Willow wanted to know. Thankfully, she was beginning to calm down a bit, her hair resuming its normal color.

"Because I don't have uberwitch powers that react rather badly to getting pissed off." Xander pointed out. Well, the magic didn't react badly ... Willow just tended to reach for the wrong kind of magic when she was seriously angry. "Because it's my job to protect my girls, even if they can kick my ass six ways from Sunday without even trying. You, Buffy, Faith, and the rest of the Slayers ... you don't ever deal with purely human enemies if I ever have a say in it. The cost for you guys is too dear, and one I refuse to let any of you pay if I can prevent it."

Willow finally calmed down the rest of the way, and gave a bit of a sniffle. Xander hugged her. "I promise, Willow. He'll be dealt with. Permanently. You just go talk to Agnes and figure out a way to get rid of that thing and figure out how to find out if there's more of them out there." And sending her to Agnes would finish the job he'd started of calming her down and keeping her from doing something that would cost her dearly. As nice, neat, and convenient as it would be, and his offhand comment to Snape aside, Willow frying Voldemort wasn't going to happen. He let her go, and moments later she'd popped out to go confer with Agnes. Xander took a deep breath and blew it out, then headed back towards the Great Hall.

September 13, Fudge's Home

Dolores Jane Umbridge, erstwhile (though she didn't realize it yet) Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, had had a rotten week. No, make that two weeks. She should never have agreed to teach at that bloody school! She hated the little monsters. They had no respect for a woman of her position! She'd been subjected to laughter and sneers and, far worse, pranks of every description. And then that bloody one-eyed freak of a muggle had ... had ... she shuddered as she stalked up the road, and a hand went to her throat. He had quite blatantly threatened to kill her. He couldn't do that! It was against the law!

Worse, she'd been chased from the grounds by a snarling, snapping vampire and an insane house elf! How a vampire had gotten on the grounds, she really didn't know, and she'd be bringing it up to the Minister once she got in contact with him. Not to mention that house elf getting far above itself. It would have to be dealt with as well. That was the other odd thing. Fudge ... was completely incommunicado. She dismissed the wild tales of a takeover of the Ministry ... that was impossible! His continued silence was worrying, however.

Finally, she made it to his home ... and found it empty. She did, however, finally get her hands on some back issues of the Prophet. The news there horrified her. Fudge really was unseated. Azkaban raided. The Prophet had fact alongside fiction, truth alongside rumor in their usual style, but the essential facts were unfortunately undeniable.

This could not be allowed! Something must be done! She would need to free Fudge, and then he could take these interlopers to task. Yes, that was the answer. But she would need assistance. Perhaps ... she peered at the articles more closely. Nowhere was Lucius Malfoy mentioned. He had, perhaps, escaped the attack then. Yes, she would go to Lucius for assistance. He was a good friend of Fudge's and would be willing to assist in his rescue and reinstatement as Minister. Umbridge let the papers dropped and left Fudge's home, heading for Malfoy Manor.

September 12-13, Various Locations

An unexpected cold and bitter weather front moved in from the northwest the morning of the twelfth, insofar as muggles were concerned. They were wholly unaware the foul weather was rolling in ahead of some two or three hundred dementors. Very hungry dementors. For too long had they hungered, permitted only the smallest of meals to keep them alive. Now, they were free of constraint, and food in plenty awaited their whims.

The first 'deaths', in the more remote regions close to Azkaban, went unreported, as there was no one left alive to report. Or, well ... alive in the sense of having a mind and soul and the ability to do more than stare vacantly into the distance. But now the dementors were getting into more populated territory. Some wizard or witch saw the incoming weather for what it was or glimpsed a dementor, and raised the alarm.

It was in the midst of this chaos that the Death Eaters struck their first blows. Partially recovered from the Azkaban breakout, the Death Eaters had spread out to find the answers their Lord sought. They were not nearly so stealthy in their first attacks as the dementors had been. A half dozen low-level Ministry employees, home after a long day's work, were interrogated and killed before their homes were razed to the ground, Marks floating in the sky overhead. That night, they returned to their Lord and reported their findings.

September 13, Malfoy Manor, evening

Lucius had returned to his home for a bit of dinner after a long day's ... work. He needed to think, and do a bit of research. The information he had procured had been ... most disturbing. A tale of extremely powerful girls and an essentially simultaneous strike on all floors of the Ministry, apparently flawlessly performed, with every marked Death Eater marched to the holding cells within minutes. It made him glad he'd not been in conference with Fudge that night.

There was something vaguely familiar about the remarkably consistent descriptions of the girls, though. Lucius couldn't quite figure out what. Something he'd read or heard, obviously, but it had to have been some time ago or only the barest of mentions for him not to be able to recall the specifics.

He headed into his library and started perusing titles, attempting to figure out where he might begin, when his sole remaining house elf (blast that Potter's bloody hide to hell and back) popped in.

"There is being someone at the door wishing to see you, Master. They is saying their name is Umbridge."

That perked Lucius' attention. Whatever was the Madam Undersecretary doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be at Hogwarts? "See her into the drawing room." He commanded, then regarded the shelves of books. It would seem his research must needs wait for another time. He swept into his drawing room and blinked. Umbridge looked like she'd crawled through the soot-covered bowels of hell.

The next half hour provided Lucius with some exceedingly ... interesting information, in among the slightly insane babble. Evidently Umbridge's mind, never the sturdiest of places to begin with, had been pushed to the breaking point by the last two weeks at Hogwarts.

"Come, my dear. I know of someone who can assist us in regaining control of the Ministry. Someone who will be well pleased with the information you possess." He told her. "We shall go there at once."

September 13, Voldemort's hideout, evening

Slowly, they gathered back in his presence, one by one. All bearing similar tales of strong, fast girls and swift action taken. Some few had even managed to extract names from their victims, but none of those meant anything to Voldemort. They did not truly identify who these people were. Voldemort was on the verge of losing his temper and punishing them all for their incompetence when Lucius arrived with a visitor.

"Lucius. Tell me why you have brought a stranger into my presence." Voldemort purred, fingering his wand prepatory to hexing Lucius into oblivion.

Lucius instantly fell to his knees, face almost in the dirt. "Forgive me, master, but she bears news of great import from Hogwarts, and I thought perhaps you would wish to hear it from her."

Voldemort regarded Lucius and Umbridge for a long moment. "You have done well, Lucius. You may rise. Come, Madame Umbridge, come closer. I would very much like to hear the tale you have to tell."

Umbridge had frozen dead still when she'd spotted Voldemort, utterly terrified. Some part of her mind knew who this was, but, like Fudge before her, she refused to accept that truth, and the part of her that was screaming at her got buried under the rest. This man would help her rescue Fudge. That was all she needed to know. After a long moment's hesitation, she took a few hesitant steps forward, and began to talk.

"So." Voldemort purred when she finally wound down. "The Watcher's Council seeks to intervene in affairs beyond their limited, pathetic scope. This will prove quite entertaining. You have done well, Madam, and you shall be rewarded. As shall you, Lucius, for bringing her before me." He looked at the group and grinned maliciously. "Go. Sow chaos and death where you will. Draw these interlopers out and then destroy them."

They went. Once only Umbridge and Pettigrew remained, Voldemort grew thoughtful. The Watcher's Council had taken over the Ministry. A rather interesting, if inevitably futile move. They had the clout to do so, but they were Watchers and earth witches. Their chances of actually managing anything against him ... unless ... unless the witch who had wrenched Severus from his grasp was one of their number. If that was the case, the Council might indeed prove to be a challenge. What worried and confused him was that there was, evidently, more than one Slayer now. There were, in fact, dozens, if the Ministry takeover had been performed entirely by Slayers. That should not be possible. There was but one Slayer at any given time. It was, according to his understanding, an immutable law. The Slayers themselves were of little concern to him ... according to the tales he'd heard, did they kill a human, they would eventually be driven mad, so their ability to counter his followers was limited in the extreme. But their existence was yet more evidence towards the Council having access to an earth witch of incredible power, and that would be making him sweat, if he'd still possessed sweat glands at this point. He was going to have to figure out how to deal with this earth witch, if he intended to succeed in taking over the Wizarding world.

September 13, The Ministry, evening

About the time Voldemort was contemplating the Council problem, the Ministry resembled a kicked-over hornet's nest yet again. The place was swarming with Ministry employees, Slayers, three-quarters of the Devon Coven, and every Watcher that could be spared. The best and brightest from both worlds had been in close conference since the first report of dementors feeding on the populace had come in, trying to figure out a way to contain the beasts at the very least, until such time as they'd managed to figure out how to kill the things. Sometime in the early evening, they'd worked out a solution, and all that remained was to actually round the things up.

Every witch and wizard capable of a patronus, whether corporeal or not, had been asked to assist in dealing with the menaces once they got containment figured out. A surprisingly large number answered the call, and they'd gone out in groups to begin herding the creatures. Several groups of wizards headed out to fairly remote spots scattered in the general area the dementors had been reported to be feeding in, and with assistance from a group of slayers, began to build the containment.

Word of the Death Eater attacks had prompted Giles to pair some of the Slayers, armed with nonlethal weapons (tasers and the like) with the most vulnerable of the Ministry employees for additional protection, and others to act as general escorts for everyone else. Some of the girls had taken to trying to show the more willing of their charges how to use muggle weapons to good effect. While nobody would be able to knife a Death Eater in the stomach with ease anytime soon, the learning had the same general effect on the adults as it did the kids at Hogwarts ... they felt less afraid, and weren't acting quite as victim-like as they otherwise might have.

September 14, Hogwarts, evening

It had taken Willow all the previous night to both calm down completely and, in close conference with Agnes, figure out how to remove the horcrux from behind Harry's scar. It was going to be a bit on the tricky side, as the thing had, rather like Snape's Mark, gotten attached to Harry, and separating the two without doing damage to Harry was of paramount concern. The others would be ridiculously easy to destroy, even at a distance.

She returned just before breakfast, just in time for another meeting of all the adults in the castle. This time Snape was present, and they were discussing the news that was coming in thanks to calls from Giles and letters from worried parents.

"He will send his followers to destroy and kill at will." Snape told them. "Crabbe, Goyle, and Pettigrew will be of no real worry. Crabbe and Goyle have perhaps one brain cell between them, and Pettigrew dares not leave his Lord's side for fear of facing the wrath of everyone that cared for the Potters." Including him, even if it was only one of the two that Snape wanted to avenge. "Lucius will content himself with relatively small amusements. The true dangers are the Lestranges, Carrows, Fenrir Greyback and Dolohov. They were among Voldemort's fiercest fighters the first time around, and now they have grudges. It would be wise to arrange more secure premises for the remaining Longbottoms, as Bellatrix is likely to seek them out."

There were nods around the room, and then McGonagall looked over at Xander. "You spoke to Dumbledore. Did he tell you anything?"

Xander glowered. "Yeah, he told me something all right." He ran through what Dumbledore had told him, had admitted to. By the time he was winding down, most of the hardline Dumbledore supporters were looking rather less supporty. They'd been hearing this sort of stuff for days, but the fact that it just kept coming was not allowing them to stick their fingers in their ears and pretend not to hear what was being said. Then Xander said. "And apparently, his whole plan for defeating Voldemort went 'let him kill Harry, then kill Voldemort myself'." Ok, so that hadn't been what Dumbledore had said, but Xander would willingly go to hell, literally, before he told anyone other than Willow about the horcrux in Harry's head. That was something no one needed to know ... including Harry. All it'd do is traumatize him and have everyone treating him like he'd turn into Voldemort any second.

Pretty much everyone blew a gasket, but the real surprise for Xander was Molly Weasley. She came up out of her seat like a rocket, face as red as her hair, and murder in her eye. For once, though, it was not focused on Xander.

"HE WHAT?" She roared, her voice clear over everyone else's. "He was going to ... but Harry's just a boy! A child! And he was going to let that ... that ... that monster kill him? I'm going to give that man a piece of my mind!" She brandished her wand and stormed from the room. Nobody seemed to be in the mood to stop her.

Arthur gave Xander a wide-eyed look. "Someone should ... " He didn't sound any more eager to stop her than anyone else.

"Arthur ... there is no way I am going to try to stop a red-head on a rampage. If you want to, go right ahead. Besides, she doesn't know where Dumbledore's at, and even if she finds out, she can't get to him." Xander said. And ok, the stopping a redhead on a rampage was a blatant lie, but he didn't feel like explaining that there was only one redhead he was willing to stop, and her name wasn't Molly Weasley. "Let her blow off some steam."

"The other bit of information I discovered is that apparently Voldemort has created one or more horcruxes. That, thankfully, isn't going to be much of a problem, I don't think." Xander continued.

"Nope, those things are going to be toast by dawn." Willow said. "Easy as pie."

And damnit, Snape was now giving Xander a very thoughtful look, like he was putting the pieces together. Damnit, the man was too smart for anyone's good! He shot Snape a quiet glare, and Snape had the audacity to smirk at him, like he found the glare amusing. Maybe getting him free of that Mark hadn't been the best idea after all. Naaaah. He was on their side, and that Mark had sucked.

The meeting broke up, and once they were out of the meeting room, Xander heard, rather faintly, Molly's outraged yelling. Still. She was apparently trying to find where Dumbledore'd been stashed so she could kill him, if the ranting was any indication. Xander snickered and glanced over at Willow. "Let's get this done, right? And Willow? Don't tell him ... or anyone else ... what that actually is, right?"

Willow nodded. "He'd freak. I know I would! And so would everyone else. I mean, some of them have some sense, but ... "

"Yeah, I hear you." Xander said.

They found Harry in Gryffindor Tower and herded him to the infirmary. Pomphrey set things up virtually identical to how she'd done for Snape, and Willow went to work.

Willow put her hand over the scar once Harry had laid down, and then caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she got to work. For a long while, she just sat there, and nothing apparently happened, at least as far as the observers were concerned. But from Willow's point of view, a lot was happening.

This was micro-work, easing the edges of the horcrux away from Harry's skull and skin a tiny fraction at a time, painfully slowly lest the thing react. Pain could be handled, and if that had been the sole problem, she'd have done much as she had with Snape, but this ... thing ... was right against Harry's brain, and if it lashed out, they'd have more problems than pain. So she was going slow and small, using the tiniest possible amounts of magic to accomplish her goal to keep the thing, and possibly Voldemort, given there seemed to be a connection between him and Harry, from realizing anything was wrong.

Finally, after nearly a solid half-hour of fussy work, she'd got it clear of Harry, cupped in the hand that had been covering his scar. It writhed there, a tiny ball of smoke, malevolence, and ill will. She pulled well away from Harry, said a brief chant ... and clenched her fist. There was a brief flash of light, and when she opened her fist, the horcrux was gone. Pomphrey swooped in, but this time, there was little she needed to do. Harry was wide awake, grinning like a loon, and apparently fine.

"Is that it? Is the creepy thing gone?" He asked.

"Yup." Xander said as he wrapped an arm around an exhausted Willow. "It's gone. And so's your scar, almost." Indeed, Harry's scar was now a thin white line that was faded almost to the point of invisibility. Harry reached a hand up to touch the scar, then grinned.

"Thanks Willow. I really appreciate it. It was kind of freaking me out a bit, knowing something was there. What was it?" Harry asked.

Well hell. "Just a really nasty knot from the blood ward problem." Xander lied. "I guess because that's where Voldemort aimed his spell, it served as a second focus for the ward issues."

"Oh. That makes sense. Glad it's gone then. Should I keep wearing this?" Harry lifted the edge of the crystal necklace he'd been wearing.

"Yeah, at least for another few days. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah, you've got a point, Xander." Harry agreed.


	26. The Price is Paid

The Price is Paid

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. A/N: Warning! Things get a /bit/ ugly in this chapter. War is not pretty.

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September 14, Voldemort's Lair, morning

The bulk of the Death Eaters had been gone for hours and dawn had broken when an odd sensation disturbed Voldemort's contemplations. It was not the shivery feel that warned of a follower messing about with their Mark, however. He poked mentally at the sensation, but could not begin to divine its source or purpose. It was far too nebulous for that.

The sensation went on for quite some time, defying all Voldemort's attempts to figure out what it was or what it meant. Then, abruptly, he was hit with a squeezing, popping sensation not unlike one would experience when popping a pimple. Horror filled him. He'd felt that sensation once before, though at that time he'd been a mere vapor. He knew what it meant. One of his horcruxes had been destroyed. The question became how, and by who? He froze utterly still, and waited with mentally bated breath. After several long minutes passed and the sensation didn't happen again, Voldemort relaxed the tiniest bit. A lucky find, probably. Perhaps even by someone who didn't realize what they'd destroyed. Still a deeply felt loss, but not a catastrophe. The witch hadn't found out. Or if she had, she thought there was only the one.

Three hours later, he'd relaxed completely and was petting Nagini, entertaining himself by verbally tormenting Umbridge. She was providing adequate amusement. He had but to mention the name Weasley for her to begin to twitch uncontrollably. It really was too bad that family was all blood traitors and had to be destroyed. If he thought he could corrupt whichever of their spawn was the source of Umbridge's distress, he might have been able to add a few more adequate followers to his ranks. They certainly seemed to know how to drive fear into an enemy.

And then, with a suddenness that literally knocked him from his throne, his remaining horcruxes popped one by one in rapid succession. He was so stunned and shaken he didn't notice that he, Umbridge and Pettigrew were spattered with exploded bits of Nagini. When he recovered from the shock, he shrieked and stomped around the room, flinging curses everywhere. Pettigrew shifted to rat form, which, while it made him a smaller target, drew Voldemort's attention, and Voldemort gave vent to his rage and fear by trying to hex the fast-moving rat. By the time he'd wound down, not only had all his horcruxes been destroyed and his beloved pet killed, but he needed a new place to hide ... err, hold court. The place they were now was threatening to come down around their ears as a result of his rampage.

"We are leaving. Now." He commanded. Umbridge, who'd dived behind the throne chair once Voldemort's attention had been fixed on Pettigrew, clambered back out into view, eyeing him warily. "Pettigrew, you will go to Hogwarts. You will spy on them and report to me."

Wormtail began to tremble. "B-but my lord!" He knew a death sentence when he heard it.

"Go."

Voldemort didn't have to say it again. Pettigrew fled. And with him gone, none of his followers would find out what had just happened. Pettigrew was too stupid to have understood the significance of the ritual he had performed surrounding Bertha Jorkin's death, but some of his followers were not as stupid, and they might just put two and two together, something Voldemort could not afford. While the knowledge he'd made a horcrux was not damaging in itself, the fact Nagini had been one and had been destroyed was exceedingly damaging. Voldemort was not unaware that a few of his followers, Malfoy in particular, would be willing to strike at him if they thought they could replace him. That chances were good he'd just consigned Pettigrew to his death didn't trouble him in the least. Pettigrew was a waste of air and magic whose sole purpose seemed to be kissing up to whoever he perceived as stronger. That he had no compunctions about squealing on his supposed best friends meant he had even less value to Voldemort, as it meant the chances of him staying loyal to Voldemort were next to nil. Let the Potters' surviving friends end the problem for him.

"Come, Madam Umbridge. We must move to better environs. I fear I have been a poor host." He held out a hand to her, using the tone of voice that had, half a lifetime ago, won him so many followers. It was time to find a better hiding place.

**_"Go. Sow chaos and death where you will. Draw these interlopers out and then destroy them." They were ordered. They obeyed their Lord._ **

September 14, Longbottom Manor, morning

Bellatrix Lestrange regarded the Longbottom Manor and licked her lips in anticipation. She'd taken such pleasure in destroying Frank and Alice. Really, their agonized screams had been quite delightful. Nor had they given in easily. It had taken a long, long time for them to collapse into insanity. Too bad she and the others had been interrupted before they could finish the pair off and start on the survivors. Now, though, she could begin to fulfill her self-appointed task ... the utter destruction of the Longbottom family.

The wards announced a visitor, of course. She blasted the elf that answered the door to smithereens with a disdainful flick of her wand. From there, she began to stalk through the house, hunting her quarry and cackling softly.

Augusta Longbottom was many things, but she was no fool. When the wards announced a visitor, but Cipsy did not pop in to tell her who it was soon thereafter, she suspected trouble. Unfortunately, she'd been in the sun room when the wards pinged, enjoying a late breakfast while surveying her grandson's plants, when the alert came. There was no floo in that room. Indeed, there was only one floo in the house. And she could not apparate out unless she got to the ward border. With someone in the house, the border was her best chance. She hurried out of the sunroom and started down the corridor towards the back door.

The two women spotted each other at opposite ends of the hall when Bellatrix exited another room. Augusta gave a snarl worthy of Snape as she recognized the invader. This was the woman who'd tortured her son and his wife into insanity, leaving their son worse than parentless, having to face the torment of seeing his parents alive and mindless. She screamed a spell, and the fight was on. Within moments, explosions rocked the house. Anything and everything not nailed down was used as shield and ammunition as the two women battled for supremacy. Bellatrix had the advantage in youth and speed and sheer, unadulterated viciousness, but Augusta had the righteous wrath of a mother who'd lost her only child and several decades more of sheer experience on her side, and was hammering Bellatrix for all she was worth. At some point, they ended up outside, still fighting viciously. Incredibly, Augusta was managing, mostly by dint of sheer rage, to drive Bellatrix back. She was not precisely winning, but Bellatrix was giving ground before her as she fought to fend off Augusta's attacks.

A neighbor had been alerted to trouble by the ruckus, and promptly yelled for help. A team of Aurors and Slayers popped in, and Bellatrix, cackling madly, flung an Avada Kedavra at the group before racing away from the new arrivals to the ward border and disappearing, leaving a battered, bleeding, and exhausted but still thankfully alive Augusta Longbottom to collapse on the ground. The rescue team swarmed forward to check her over and get her to St. Mungo's.

September 14, Privet Drive, afternoon

Lucius Malfoy sneered in distaste as he stalked down the street. Such utter filth. Such pitiful wretches. These creatures did not deserve to live, any of them. The exacting sameness of every house and yard was nauseating. He had to restrain himself from setting fire to the lot of them before he even got where he was going.

It was amazing what a bit of torture could get you. It had been fairly simple to force the name of Potter's relatives and the general location of their residence from the lips of one of Lily's few surviving friends. From there, it had been even more simple to discover the exact location from passing muggles. It was so, so easy. Almost disappointing really.

He located Number 4, and after ensuring someone was home, fired off several high-level flame spells, then strolled further down the block to watch the house burn to the ground, smiling at the screams coming from within. He was unaware that he was not as successful as he might have hoped.

Petunia Dursley was many things, but terminally stupid she wasn't. Or so she liked to think, at any rate. She'd been in the kitchen, fixing Vernon breakfast when the front of the house caught fire, burning fast and fierce. Vernon's agonized screams convinced her to bolt out the back door rather than attempt to save him. She was just grateful that her precious Dudley was at school, safe from harm.

September 14, Granger Residence, evening

Antonin Dolohov had had an even easier time ascertaining the Grangers' whereabouts than Lucius had with the Dursley's. In his case, it had involved an Imperius on a low-level official in the department that monitored underage magic. Since Granger was a mudblood, her address was known to that department. He'd stopped to enjoy a bit of extra muggle-hunting, and didn't finish until evening. Finally, however, he apparated to the Grangers' house.

The drapes were drawn, but there were lights on, so he assumed the Grangers were home and promptly set fire to the place with the same spells Lucius used, then left before anyone took notice of his presence. As a pureblood, he had no knowledge of things like timers used to turn lights on at dark to ward off potential burglars when no one was home. Both of the Grangers were working late, as someone had come in without an appointment but with an urgent dental problem. Like Privet Drive, the Granger home burned to the ground, but no one lost their lives.

September 14, The Burrow, morning

The Lestrange brothers had headed straight for the Burrow, anticipating killing the blood traitors and razing their home to the ground. As with the Longbottom Manor, the Burrow's wards announced their arrival. The Lestrange brothers, however, did not share Bellatrix's rather marginal luck. They didn't even get in the door before Molly and Arthur came out firing spells.

Most people were rather intimately aware that Molly Weasley had a temper, but if questioned, most people that knew her would never peg her as anything other than a doting mother. Few remembered that she'd managed to hold her own against her twin brothers, who were every bit as bad as Fred and George, if not worse, and had been a talented, capable student in her day. Her temper was a rather large hint at the relentless, unforgiving tigress that hid beneath the mask of doting matron. That blindness to her abilities served Molly well, now. Rodolphus had no idea what he was crossing wands with. Within moments, she had Rodolphus on the run, trying desperately and without much success to counter her vicious attacks. Unfortunately, Arthur was not faring so well against Rabastan, having taken a Reducto he couldn't quite duck in time to the ribs.

Fortunately, at that point, the rescue party arrived, and hexes and all manner of sharp weapons flew. Rabastan went down under a combination of both, but Rodolphus managed to drag him the last few feet to the ward border and apparate to safety. The rescue team converged on Molly, who was singed and bleeding slightly from a few cuts, but otherwise remarkably unharmed. She waved them off immediately, and nearly beat them to Arthur's side. He was in a bad way, barely able to breathe, his side a mess of torn muscle and broken bone. The team did what they could to stabilize him and then raced for St. Mungo's.

September 14, Hogwarts, late evening

It had been a long day, and Xander was barely awake when his cell phone rang. "Yo, Giles. What's up?" He grunted into the phone. The report Giles gave him woke him right the hell up, making him snarl in rage. "Fucking ... God damn it. Fucking asshole. I'm going to fucking rip his heart out!" He raged. "God damn it. Shit." He barely resisted the temptation to punch the wall. That would not end well, for him. Stone trumps bone. "He'll come for the kids next, Giles. I want everyone here by breakfast." And then he snapped the phone closed.

"Oh christ. How do I tell them?" He asked the otherwise empty room, expression stricken. Homes burned to the ground. People dead or badly wounded. Christ. "McGonagall. Need to tell her." He told himself as he turned and headed for her office. "Oh god, and Sirius and Remus. Christ."

He stumbled downstairs and into McGonagall's office and asked her to get everyone to the meeting room immediately. She got one look at his face and fired off a patronus message, the joined him on the trip to the meeting. Once everyone had assembled, Xander started talking.

"I got a call from Giles just a few minutes ago." He said, his voice shaking. "The Death Eaters made their move today. They burned the Grangers' house to the ground. Fortunately, it seems the Grangers themselves were not home at the time. The Dursley's weren't so lucky. Vernon Dursley evidently never made it out of the house, but Petunia did. Augusta Longbottom apparently tore half her house down fighting Bellatrix Lestrange. She's injured but in fairly good shape, considering. The Weasleys ... " He took a breath. "Molly's fine, but Arthur's in bad shape. He'll live, but he's going to be hospitalized for a few days." He rubbed at his face, then gave the three rather shell-shocked teachers a look. "How in the name of hell do we tell them?"

"It's not the first time the school staff has had to do this." McGonagall said, sounding sad. "We'll get it done, don't worry."

"I'll go get them." Remus said. "Tell them we need their help with something, so they don't stress out just coming here." He headed for Gryffindor Tower.

McGonagall dismissed the other teachers, though Snape seemed to want to loiter around for some reason, and was giving them odd looks.

Remus, bless him, managed to get the Weasley clan, Harry, Hermione, and Neville into the meeting room without freaking them out or winding them up. It damn near broke Xander's heart to have to shatter their apparent high spirits. God. He couldn't even reassure them that 'everyone's alive' without being a liar. How in the hell did you do this? He'd never had to do this before ... the few of his girls that had died since he'd gotten them out of Africa hadn't had any families left to give the bad news to.

It was Neville, quiet, shy Neville, always alert to the mood of people around him, that picked up on the fact there was something wrong first, if his slow-growing frown was anything to go by. Fortunately, before he could say anything, McGonagall spoke up. "I am afraid there is no easy way to say this. The Death Eaters went on the attack today."

Pretty much instantaneously, they all went wide-eyed with horror. Before they could start to freak out, McGonagall went on. "The Grangers are wholly unharmed, but I am afraid I cannot say the same for your home, Miss Granger. Augusta is also alive and well, if a bit battered. You may be proud of your grandmother, Neville. She gave a good accounting of herself." Then, she turned to the Weasleys. "You mother is fine. Your father, however, is seriously injured. He will heal completely, we have been told." Then, gently, she turned to Harry. "Vernon was killed, Harry. Petunia and Dudley are unharmed. Their home, however, was burned to the ground."

Neville looked ... completely enraged. His hands were clenched into fists and he looked like he wanted very much to go hunt down whoever had done this. The Weasleys were even worse. The twins had murder in their eyes, and Ron was snarling under his breath. Ginny was crying, but had a grimly determined look on her face. Hermione looked a bit shell shocked ... and a lot pissed. Harry had begun to shake, a look of complete, utter, stark horror on his face. Sirius wrapped his arms around Harry, Remus but a moment behind him, but it didn't seem to be helping any.

"My fault." Harry croaked. "My fault. Got them killed." He subsided into muttering, but from the look on Remus' face, it was along much the same lines. Xander opened his mouth to refute Harry's babble.

To his complete surprise, Ron got there first. Red-faced with rage, he practically snarled at Harry. "Bollocks, mate! Did you walk up to that scaly wheezer and make him decide you were his enemy? Did you hold a wand to those faceless, cowardly wankers and make them attack our folks? This isn't your fault, mate. None of it ever has been. You've just had to do what you could with the mess you were handed. This is none of your fault, Harry, and I don't ever want to hear you saying that again. Put the blame where it belongs, with V-Voldemort and bloody 'I know better than everyone' Dumbledore!"

He dropped to a crouch in front of a somewhat dazed-looking Harry. "We'll get him, Harry. We'll make him pay. All of us. Together. I know I've been a right prat for a while, but I ... bollocks. I got jealous. I thought you had everything I ever wanted. Took me a while to figure out what you had wasn't as grand as it sounded. I know I've messed up mate, but I hope you can forgive me. And even if you can't, you're stuck with me, 'cause like hell I'm going to let that bastard get a shot at you if I can help it." Ron's expression was grimly determined.

Slowly, the rest of them surrounded Sirius, Remus and Harry. "Ron's right, Harry. We deal with them together. If it's us they want, it's us they'll get. But I don't think they'll like it." Neville practically growled. The others all nodded, trading looks that promised a world of pain for the Death Eaters.

Xander gave a grim smile. "He may have landed the first, telling blow, but we're the ones going to be nailing his coffin."


	27. The March

The March

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 15, Hogwarts

Xander, Spike, Faith, Sirius and Remus decided to have breakfast in the meeting room with Harry, Hermione, Neville and the Weasleys the next morning, as the kids were not really in a mood to hang out with the rest of the school at the moment, especially since the attacks would be in the morning paper. Harry had pulled out of his horrified shock, and towards the end of breakfast, talk turned to what to do.

"The castle is more than large enough to provide sanctuary for all four families." McGonagall said. "The question, however, becomes whether the Dursley's will accept."

"Not a chance." Harry said. "Petunia hates magic with a passion, and both she and Dudley sort of cower in corners whenever any is on display." Granted, they had reason to be leery (pig tails and blown up aunts and ton tongue toffees, anyone?). "I don't think they could handle the castle for more than about five minutes without going completely bonkers."

"What if we set them up in Hogsmeade?" Xander asked. "It's close enough to the castle that they can get here fast, and while it's still magical, it's not quite as painfully blatant as the castle."

"That might work." Harry agreed.

"I'll speak with Augusta." McGonagall said. "And the Grangers." The Weasleys, at least, would take little to no convincing.

They headed into the Great Hall about the time breakfast was breaking up, though about a quarter of the student body got a surprise when the castle got invaded ... by Slayers and Watchers (and witches). Each one laden with some rather interesting gear. Xander grinned at them, then glanced over at McGonagall. "Going to need to borrow some of the ghosts and one or two of the older kids, I think."

"Quite." She said, looking both amused and relieved that backup had arrived.

It was easy enough to get the ghosts to assist with pointing the Slayers and Watchers to where the weapons needed to go. Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar and a half dozen others volunteered rather quickly. Xander left them to it.

A couple hours later, the Grangers were teleported in, followed by Augusta, Frank and Alice. It broke Xander's heart and made him cringe when he saw the latter two. No wonder Neville looked so utterly pissed off. The last to arrive were Molly and a pale, unconscious Arthur. Neville's parents were ensconced in a room just off the infirmary proper, where Poppy could keep an eye on them, while Arthur's bed was quickly surrounded by his kids, both those attending Hogwarts and those that had graduated. Even Percy, who had evidently become estranged from the family, had shown up to stand vigil at his father's bedside. Bill and Charlie were kept busy staying a step ahead of the still murderously angry twins, who spent quite a bit of time whispering back and forth, evidently plotting revenge.

While Xander didn't see it, the Durselys were settled in a small home at the edge of Hogsmeade, close to the castle. They were less than happy about the situation, but Petunia, despite her extreme dislike of all things magical, was not fool enough to refuse a roof over her head and at least a modicum of security from attack when it was offered. And as the day waned, Hogwarts held its collective breath, waiting. Waiting for whatever move Voldemort was going to make next. And they waited.

September 15, Voldemort's new lair, morning

In the end, there was only one solution to the problem Voldemort found himself presented with. Kill Harry Potter. With the boy dead, immortal or no, he could rule unopposed. It would give him the time he required to figure out how to become truly immortal. It was a shame the Stone had been destroyed, but he could recreate it, given enough time to do so.

That the Council had not responded to the attacks perpetrated by his followers intrigued Voldemort. Oh, they'd hurried to rescue two of the families, but the other two had gone undefended, and there had been no attempt to follow or strike back in retaliation. That said, Rabastan was out of action for today and tomorrow. The rest stood before him.

"It is time." He hissed. "To gather our allies and crush this insolent filth beneath our boots. Gather everyone."

They went.

September 17, Hogwarts

The castle residents had the dubious pleasure of enjoying two days of quiet. Two utterly nerve-wracking, crazy-making days of total silence on Voldemort and his followers' parts. Wherever they were, and whatever they were doing, it wasn't attacking muggles, or wizards, the Ministry or the school. It was enough to drive everyone buggy.

Late in the second day, the best minds in the Ministry and the Council finally had a breakthrough in their effort to figure out how to kill dementors. They ended up creating a weapon not unlike the Slayer Scythe in general appearance, save that the blade of this scythe was pure white. It had taken a cooperative effort between wand and earth witches to make, and was powered by the same 'positive memory' link that powered a patronus. Earth magic had been added and tweaked so that anyone, muggle, witch, or Slayer, could wield the new scythe against dementors, and enabling those who would not naturally be able to see the abominations to see them so that they could kill them.

Once they'd figured out the first one, three more made in very short order and four volunteers, accompanied by a squad of slayers and wizards for protection just in case the Death Eaters showed up, headed to the containment 'buildings' to deal with the captured dementors permanently. When they returned, they remarked that it was oddly satisfying to be rid of the horrifying menaces. As no one was sure that all the dementors had been caught, and no one knew how they came to be in the first place, two of the weapons were sent to Hogwarts against future need, while the other two were stored in the Auror Department.

September 18, Hogwarts

The next morning, Hagrid finally arrived, looking battered and rather a bit bloody. McGonagall pulled him aside to find out what had happened and fill him in on everything he missed. Xander did not envy her the task. Everything he'd heard about Hagrid said the man was deeply loyal to Dumbledore. He was going to take his hero's fall from grace rather badly, and that wasn't even the start of the events of the last three weeks.

And still they waited. Nerves were getting very short. The Scoobies were not used to this sort of thing. Normally, there was no breather between discovering a threat and kicking its ass ... when the continuation of the world was at stake, time tended to be painfully short and most of the baddies they faced did not do patience well unless they were forced into it by needing to wait for a particular moment in time to pull their evil scheme. And even if there was waiting, it was very, very, very rare for it to be 'sit and twiddle your thumbs' waiting. There was always research to be done or other baddies to kill or jobs to work or something to help keep your mind off the oncoming trouble.

Hagrid came out of the conference with McGonagall crying, blubbering, and looking utterly devastated. Given what Xander had heard of the man, and his near-worship of Dumbledore, the reaction was a bit milder than he'd expected. Hagrid headed immediately for Harry and started blubbering horrified apologies. Harry, soon joined by the Weasleys, Hermione and Neville, consoled and reassured him. And still they waited.

Snape, leading the half-dozen or so of his students that he'd commandeered, finally appeared from the depths of the dungeons late in the day, bearing crates of potions. Half of them went to Poppy, to deal with the injuries that were going to inevitably happen when Voldemort made his move. The other half were distributed between the various chosen defenders with clear instructions on what to do with them, and what not to do. Xander found himself more than slightly alarmed at the outlined effects of the vials. Anyone getting splashed with those would most definitively not be a happy camper.

Everyone was wound tight, antsy and pacing and in the case of most of the Slayers, obsessively checking their weapons. There was little talk and no laughter at all as they checked, rechecked, and triple-checked everything they could think of. Checking the Marauder's Map became something of a compulsive activity for more than one person, despite the fact that someone was set to watch it at all times, as it would provide them with a much-needed warning if they were approached from the woods. The Astronomy Tower was never empty, either, as an ever-rotating crew kept watch in the direction of Hogsmeade. And still, they waited.

September 18, Slytherin Dorms

Draco Malfoy found himself in a most unusual position. For the first time in his pampered, gifted life, he was unsure of himself, his position and his place in the world. And it was all Potter's fault.

Just this summer, it had been a given that he, like his father, would serve at Voldemort's side, furthering the cause of purebloods and attempting to rid their society of the taint of those unfit to wield a wand, not to mention ridding their world of creatures even lower than half-bloods, mudbloods and blood traitors. It had been a future to which he had looked forward as all that was noble, good, and necessary. He, like his father, had fully anticipated winning that fight.

And then the school year had started, and that ... muggle, and ... things had rapidly gone from bad to worse. It had not helped Draco's ego to discover that he was genuinely terrified of the 'helpless' muggle in the aftermath of the man's rampage through the castle in pursuit of Umbridge. Draco had caught but the merest glimpse of the man's face and promptly made himself scarce. There were some things, he had decided, that were not worth investigating.

And then Snape had disappeared for a day, only to return with, if it was even possible, a more vicious personality, more energy and more intelligence. Draco had long respected the man as formidable, but this was ridiculous! And the source of much of Draco's disquiet. For Snape had told them all what he had once been, and spared absolutely no detail in what a Death Eater was expected to do.

The nebulous concept of 'getting rid of' the unworthy had become rather distressingly concrete, bloody, and more than slightly horrifying. Draco had discovered himself to be highly reluctant to put into actual practice that which he'd been taught all his life. Did he still find mudbloods offensive? Merlin, yes. Same with halfbloods and blood traitors. Was he willing to maim, torture, rape and kill them for having the effrontery to live? Very much not.

Which left him with an interesting, distressing question. What now? Did he openly defy his father? Did he just keep his head down and his mouth shut until the dust settled? For it was becoming painfully obvious that the war that had been simmering for years was about to explode. There had already been violence. Now it was only a matter of time before someone made a final move. Who the victor would be ... well, a few months ago, Draco would have bet on Voldemort. These days, he was not so sure.

His only comfort in his confusion was that he was far from being the only one. The sixth and seventh years were as contemplative as he was, considering their options and trying to figure out what they were going to do.

 

September 18, Hogsmeade

Peter Pettigrew was in a lot of trouble. If he went where he'd been told to, he'd die. He had no illusions there. Sirius and Remus had been all too willing to kill him in the Shrieking Shack, and somehow he doubted that Harry would spare him a second time. But if he didn't go, Voldemort would find out and kill him for defying him. Voldemort would also kill him if he ran. What was a rat to do? He dithered and sweated and fretted as he hid in Honeydukes' cellar in rat form, eyeing the entrance to the tunnel. Did he or didn't he?

September 18, Voldemort's Lair, Early Evening

They were ready. Voldemort surveyed his troops with pleasure, if not amusement. If Slayers wanted to meddle in the affairs of wizards, he would give them something to do. A wide range of demons had answered his call, specifically for the chance at killing a Slayer. Practically every vampire in Europe with aspirations of putting a Slayer notch on their belts, and representatives of over a dozen different demons had arrived as well. Giants, the acromantulas, a number of smaller Dark creatures from the wizarding world, Fenrir and a handful of his followers, banshees and ten dementors that had managed to survive the purge of their species by dint of not having been caught in the first place. With his dozen followers, all now healed from the injuries received during the raids, they were quite an army. Not, perhaps, what he would have preferred, but more than sufficient to the cause.

Half, he put under the command of Lucius, to work their way to Hogwarts through the forest. The other half would go before him, destroying Hogsmeade and anything else in their path before they got to the school. Such a force, such devastation, would force the cowards from their lair. They would then see about this 'vanquisher'. A mere child could not possibly match his skill. Harry Potter would die, and with him, the hope of the muggle-lovers. With the boy gone and Hogwarts under his control, the rest of the English wizarding world would quickly follow.

Lucius and his group started out first, as they'd have the rougher going. A bit later, Voldemort gathered the remainder and sent them on their way, striding along behind like a king surveying his domain.


	28. Demons, Destruction, and Death

Demons Destruction and Death

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

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September 19, Hogsmeade, Voldemort's army, just past midnight

The Lestranges, Carrows, and Dolohov led the half of Voldemort's army that was storming through the countryside. Bellatrix skipped and twirled as they marched, cackling in anticipation as the first buildings of Hogsmeade came into view. As she reached the first building, she whirled in a circle, then blasted the place to flinders with a rapid-fire series of 'reductos'. The rest of the army took this as the signal to spread out.

Rodolphus and Rabastan split off down the side streets, starting to roust people out of their homes and raze businesses. They laughed nastily as people fled their burning homes, only to race straight into the waiting arms and fangs of hungry demons. But after the first three or four houses ... nothing. Not a single person to be found. Not even in the Three Broomsticks.

A half-dozen or so vamps and demons headed for Honeydukes and the tunnel there. Unbeknownst to any of them, Peter Pettigrew was tucked in a corner of the room. He watched them go down into the tunnel ... and shook all over when, a few moments later, there was a single, multi-voiced howl of agony accompanied by a brilliant flare of light that was visible around the edges of the hatch into the tunnel. He let out a squeak and fled from the cellar, out into the streets, deeply grateful he'd never gotten up the nerve to use the tunnel to get into Hogwarts. Clearly, it would have ended badly.

September 19, Hogsmeade, Defenders

Hogsmeade, like Hogwarts, had been braced for impact for days. Still, the initial moments of the attack were a surprise. It was Madame Rosmerta who heard the explosions that brought down the first house and raised the alarm, even as she was rolling out of bed. She grabbed the odd little thing (earpiece) the muggles said could be used to contact them and fairly yelled into it. "They're here! Can you hear me? They're attacking the village!"

No verbal answer came, but within a matter of seconds, earth witches were popping into everyone's homes and popping them to Hogwarts and safety. Some lives were lost, but nowhere near as many as could have been.

September 19, The Forbidden Forest

The forest had been unnaturally quiet ever since the Slayers had gone through and pushed the Dark creatures back, away from the school. Tonight, though, it was beginning to stir as a small army of demons, vampires and dark creatures marched through heading for Hogwarts.

At the head of the column strode a rather ... disturbed Lucius Malfoy. He was not best pleased to be storming Hogwarts. After all, his son and heir was there. The boy was Lucius' pride and joy, and the apple of his mother's eye. He did not wish to see his son dead, and that bid fair to happen today, if not worse. Behind him, much as their sons did with Draco, strode Crabbe and Goyle Sr. With them was Fenrir Greyback and his crew of motley, vicious werewolves. Lucius was no fool. He knew Fenrir enjoyed making children in his own image. Draco might now be too old, but then again, he might not. To have the Malfoy heir tainted in such a manner was as unconscionable as him dying.

Unfortunately, there was little choice but to obey his Lord. His only choices were obedience or death. Unless, of course, these Council people won. But even at that, his options did not look good. These Council people were no Dumbledore, with his belief in giving people infinite chances. Lucius much doubted his chances of getting them to believe he was on their side at this late date. Especially if that muggle boy was any indication of what the group was like. The boy was a downright menace.

They reached the edge of the forest, acromantulas and all manner of dark creatures from the forest either driven before them or joining their army of their own free will to strike back at those that had hurt them, before Lucius had managed to make a decision.

September 19, Hogwarts, just past midnight

Remus, wired with energy and unable to sleep, had taken over watching the map around ten in the evening. He'd since been pacing the meeting room, map in hand, to give vent to his restless energy. Movement on the edge of the map caught his attention. His breathing snagged as a long and growing line of names began to appear just inside the forest's border. He whipped around and started to flick his wand at the alarm they'd set up, only for whoever'd been 'on the line' for Hogsmeade to beat him to the punch. He continued the flick after a second's startlement. The cacophony of the alarms was overlaid by the dull roar of the castle's population rousing themselves and racing to war.

Xander catapulted out of bed when the alarms went off. He'd not exactly been sleeping, being nearly as restless as Remus, but he'd made an attempt at relaxing, for all the good it'd done. He grabbed his earpiece. "What've we got, people?" He wanted to know.

"Large force attacking Hogsmeade, makeup unknown. Rosmerta alerted. Witches are already gone." Came one answer.

"Another large force just inside the forest border." Remus reported. "I'm counting about a half dozen DE's for sure." There was a wordless snarl. "One of them's Fenrir. He'll have some of his cronies with him. The rest of the names, I don't recognize. And there's a lot of movement with no names attached."

"Right." Xander said as he jammed the last of his weapons into holsters and grabbed his axe. "Everyone into position. You know your places. Wizards, shoot to kill. I repeat, shoot to kill. These people are not here for a tea party. Showing them mercy will just get you, me, and every kid in this place killed. I catch anyone throwing stunners around, there'll be hell to pay."

"Witches are reporting in. Looks like the bastards managed to get to four houses before we got there. We've got no idea if they're dead, fled, or hostages." Came another report.

Another voice broke in. "Xander, they brought vampires. And demons."

Xander blinked as he headed for the Great Hall. "You're shitting me. Vamps and demons against Slayers?"

"Not kidding. I got a good look out a window before I teleported out. Too quick to identify which kinds of demons, but vamps in demon face are pretty distinctive. Especially when they're facing you."

"You heard that, girls. Get ready to get your slay on. Looks like hunting season's opening early." Xander said, and couldn't restrain a grin at the chorus of cheers from the Slayers.

He strode into the Great Hall just moments before a virtual flood of Slayers and wizards. The youngest kids were sealed into their dorms, but McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout came in leading almost the entirety of their Houses that were fifth year and up. The real surprise, though, was Snape. Xander knew that Slytherin House had a massive issue where this battle was concerned, since most of the kids had relatives in Voldie's army, or who had agreed with Voldie's philosophy. Xander hadn't expected more than maybe three or four kids from Slytherin joining the fight, if that. He'd planned simply to leave the Slytherins locked in their dorm. What he got was almost half of the Slytherins from fifth year and up. Now Xander really wanted to know what on earth Snape had said or done to his House in the aftermath of losing his Mark. Whatever it was, it had clearly worked.

"All right, people. We've got an army en route, both from Hogsmeade and the forest." Xander told them once everyone had assembled. "There's a lot of demons mixed in. Listen to the Slayers! They all know how to kill these beasties, so if they start yelling for you to do something in particular, do it. Either that or leave the demons to the Slayers. Other than that, hit these idiots with everything you've got. You know what your groups are, so get together. We deploy the moment they get close enough. Faith, you take the Slytherin group with Snape."

Everyone else had a 'team' already. Faith had originally been with Xander, McGonagall, Harry, Hermione, the Weasley kids and Neville, as that was the group they needed to watch over and guard the most closely. There'd been a rather vociferous argument over letting them onto the battlefield at all, given how badly Voldemort wanted Harry dead, but Xander had won and the kids were going. Between Faith and Snape, the Slytherins would be well looked after, and dealt with if they turned traitor, which Xander hoped they didn't, without seriously weakening Xander's group.

Xander headed for Remus and the map, peering at it. Yeah. Mass of movement in the forest about covered it. So much so that the names were nearly illegible. And then, finally, the Hogsmeade group began to appear at the edge of the map.

"Right, looks like they're waiting for both halves of the army to get into position before they hit us." He said. And then the name he'd been hoping for appeared on the map. "Got you." He whispered, a toothy, anticipatory grin on his face.

The Battle

Voldemort surveyed the castle from the border of the wards for a long moment. His army ranged before him, shifting from foot to foot in eager anticipation. He lifted his wand and shot a Dark Mark into the sky. Instantly, the army just in front of him roared and charged forwards, Bellatrix in the lead and the two brothers but a step behind her.

At the edge of the woods, the Mark was spotted. It took a few moments longer for them to mobilize, as they were chivvying creatures before them, but they soon stormed into plain view.

Both halves of the army were met with a hail of spellfire, arrows with various materials for tips, and gunfire from the defenders posted at the windows, balconies and parts of the roof that supplied the best firing lines the moment they stepped across the wardline. At that distance, the spells mostly missed, serving more to make everyone duck for cover than to actually do damage. The arrows and bullets, however, cut quite a chunk out of both halves of the army. Two Death Eaters went down under the hail of bullets despite having put up shields against spellfire before the others recovered from their shock and conjured solid walls of stone in front of themselves as shields. Quite a number of the lesser, easily killed creatures went down as well. Unfortunately, at that distance, it was impossible to pick your target and hit it with the appropriate ammunition, even for Slayers, so all the firing crews could do was 'spray and pray'.

Slowly, the army converged on the castle, and the fire from the heights petered off. The approaching army took this as a good sign. They really shouldn't have.

Moments after the firing died down, the front doors opened, and a virtual swarm of slayers and wizards poured out. Several of the vampires in the army, having not truly realized the consequences of an army of Slayers, panicked and tried to run, only to find themselves being either brought down by their 'allies', or being forced to continue by one means or another.

Spike ended up leading the charge, mostly by dint of being a bit faster even than the Slayers. That and being very eager to get his hands bloody. Unlike his great pouf of a sire, Spike had never tried to deny or hide what he was. He was a demon with a soul. Not a soul with a demon. He would never again maim, torture, or kill just for fun or to eat, but he refused to torture himself and try to squash the demon entirely. He still took unabashed glee in mass quantities of violence and bloodshed and really enjoyed a chance to let loose on 'acceptable' targets. For this fight, he had decided to forego any weapons in favor of teeth and claws. He launched himself at a particularly large and sturdy demon and gave it a solid kick to the chest.

The Slayers were only seconds behind him, hitting the demons in a near-solid wall of swords and stakes. Behind them, the wizards (and Xander) were firing at anything inhuman that moved and didn't have a shock of blonde hair. As the Slayers broke through the front line of demons, the battle degenerated into pockets of fighting rather than a solid wall of fighters facing off against each other.

Remus headed straight for Fenrir the moment he spotted him. Fenrir greeted him with a snarl and a swipe to the face. "It's time you learned your place, cub." Fenrir snarled.

"I already know my place." Remus practically roared. "And it for damn sure isn't by your side." Two months of training with Xander and Spike paid off as he hauled off and hit Fenrir with all his strength. The startled look of disbelief on Fenrir's face as he went flying backwards was balm to Remus' soul. Fenrir recovered from his surprise fast, though, and came flying right back at Remus the moment he landed. The two werewolves started trading blows, snarling and growling as they fought to stomp each other into the ground.

The giants headed straight for the castle, which proved to be a bad mistake. The defenders stationed there opened fire on them, bringing three of the four down before they could reach the walls. The fourth, slightly smarter than his brethren, lurched out of range of the incoming fire and back towards the main battle and easier prey. Unfortunately, this was only marginally safer, as he soon fell to concentrated spellfire and a particularly determined Slayer.

The incoming swarm of acromantulas were met with spellfire, but when that proved not to be enough due to their sheer numbers, one of the earth witches who'd joined the party popped into the castle and came back out ... with a flamethrower. Within seconds, others followed her lead, and spider flambé was on the menu. Even better, the larger acromantulas didn't die instantly, instead, they lurched about for a bit, many of them heading into the enemy's ranks and starting something else on fire.

Flitwick, for all his small size, was pure death on anything that got in range. Wielding both wand and a nasty-looking goblin-made sword, he was racking up quite the number of kills, to the point where the Slayer assigned to his group made due mental note to see if they could get the little guy on their team. A fighter like that was wasted as a teacher!

Sirius tangled with Antonin Dolohov, the pair of them trading vicious hexes back and forth. Faith, Snape, and his Slytherins were devastating one end of the enemy's 'line' almost singlehanded, their knowledge of the nastiest hexes coming in very handy while Faith had a lot of fun destroying whatever demons got in range.

Xander's group was going through the battlefield like a dose of salts. McGonagall might have been older, but she was a terror in a fight. The only hitch had been when Ron spotted the acromantulas. He'd panicked for a moment, eyes wide and gibbering in fear. Then the flamethrowers came into play.

"What is that? I want one of those!" He said, pointing to the nearest flamethrower. "I hate spiders."

He seemed to recover his equilibrium somewhat at that point and refocused on the task at hand. Then they spotted the Lestranges. Instantly, three-quarters of the group split up and went on the attack. The Weasleys focused on Rodolphus and Rabastan, ganging up on the older wizards and blasting them with everything they had.

Neville was not nearly so elegant with Bellatrix. He bore little resemblance to the gentle, shy boy of but a few weeks ago as he stormed at her, screaming spells as fast as he could say them ... with no intention at all of any of them hitting her. She laughed and taunted him as she batted the spells aside, not even bothering with a shield.

Neville seemed to ignore her taunts and just kept coming, until he was nice and close. At that point, he threw a knife at her, succeeding in burying it in her leg. She went down with a scream of pain, and Neville launched himself at her, stomping her wand into kindling before beginning to take a lifetime's worth of revenge out of her hide, stomping, hitting and kicking her for all he was worth.

They weren't the only ones dishing out a bit of revenge. There had been absolutely no possibility of Dobby not taking part in the fight, not when his Harry Potter sir was in danger. That said, the little elf was more than willing to dish a bit of retribution out to a certain elder Malfoy when Dobby spotted the man raining hexes down on a group of slayers trying to deal with a group of particularly sturdy demons.

"You is not hurting Dobby's friends!" The little guy shrieked, and promptly blew Lucius back about twenty feet. He didn't stop there, either, repeatedly knocking Lucius around the battlefield like he was a human bludger, smashing him into anything sturdy and not one of the good guys that Dobby could aim him at until Lucius landed in a broken, bleeding but somehow still alive heap.

The dementors swept around the edges of the group until someone spotted them in the melee and called for the new scythes. After that, a team of four worked to corral the things into one spot for easy slayage.

Harry and Hermione were making a good accounting of themselves, using every trick they'd been taught to deal with anything that got in range. And the bad guys could be forgiven for thinking Xander was a particularly nasty demon himself. He was covered in gore within minutes, his favorite axe never still for a moment as he hacked and slashed his way through anything dumb enough to get in his way.

How long the fight raged was anyone's guess. Xander was trying to work his way towards Voldemort, who was staying well back and out of the fight, letting his minions do all the dirty work. Unfortunately, there was a wide gap of very clear space between the battlefield and Voldemort, and anyone who approached the man was bound to get hexed six ways from Sunday, which meant Xander didn't have a chance at getting to him. He had also been prudent enough to erect a solid wall to duck behind, should any attempt be made to shoot the bastard, whether with spells or something else. Xander was starting to get exceedingly frustrated when a certain idiot made things a lot easier. And no, it wasn't Voldemort. It was Harry.

Xander didn't even realize Harry had split off from the group until he spotted Harry punching Umbridge in the face with great glee. Umbridge, who happened to be the closest to Voldemort, having not been entirely too keen on the whole 'mingling with demons, halfbreeds, and the good lord only knew what else'.

"You want me, Voldemort? You got me!" Harry roared. "Question is, are you going to fight like a man or hide like a coward?"

Xander clapped a hand over his face. "If he survives this, I am going to kill him." He muttered.

"Not if I get to him first!" Hermione, the only one of the kids still at his side at that point all but screeched. "What is he thinking?"

"If you figure it out, let me know. Because then I can yell at him for his stupidity." Xander growled as he beheaded another demon.

"Ahhh, Harry." Voldemort said. "You do realize you cannot win. You would do far better to join me."

Harry snorted. "I'm not insane, Tommy ... "

"Do not call me that!"

"What, Tom? Tommy? Tommy boy? Tom Marvolo Riddle? That's your name, isn't it?" Harry asked, tone one of complete innocence.

Voldemort actually stormed closer, flinging a hex at Harry. Harry dove to the side, and the hex missed. Voldemort let out a sound of outrage and let loose with a stream of hexes, closing the distance between them.

And Xander began to figure out Harry's plan. Voldemort was moving closer. The fight was still raging, only a few people slowing to watch the standoff, as the demons did not stop trying to kill people. Every time Harry dodged, he worked his way to one side, never the other. The net result was that Voldemort was starting to turn sideways to the main battle. With his back towards Xander.

The instant Xander realized what Harry was trying to do, he barked a quiet. "Stay. Here." At Hermione and started making tracks for the two combatants, keeping low and trying very hard not to be noticed, at least not by Voldemort.

"You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, could you, Tommy? You do know what a barn is, right, what with you being a halfblood and raised in the muggle world, right? Where did you learn to aim, anyway?" Harry taunted, still not throwing hexes or anything else at Voldemort.

Voldemort was, by this point, frothing in rage. He whipped his wand at Harry. "Avada Kedavra!" He screamed.

And, just like in the graveyard, Harry screamed, simultaneously. "Expelliarmus!"

The two beams joined. The air filled with the sound of phoenix song, and everything demonic flattened to the ground, screaming in agony.

"This is your plan?" Voldemort taunted. "You know you cannot defeat me, and there is nowhere to run."

Harry, sweating with the effort of keeping the 'bead' away from his own wand, gritted out a response. "I have no intention of beating you, Voldemort."

"That's my job." Xander snarled. He'd managed to slip through the 'dome' right behind Voldemort while the bastard was concentrating on Harry.

As Voldemort turned, an expression of horror on his face, Xander lifted his axe and swung for the fences. He and Harry both got thrown on their asses as Voldemort's suddenly headless body exploded with the force of a small bomb, raining bits of the erstwhile Dark Lord all over the nearest combatants.

For a moment, the entire battlefield went still in shock, then the demons started laying into everyone again. Everyone. Death Eaters included. The Death Eaters, thrown into utter confusion and dismay, tried to break and run. Well, the ones that could still walk tried. Bellatrix, Rabastan, Fenrir, and Antonin were in no shape at all to run.

Most of the Death Eaters, in the midst of the horde of demons, many of them badly injured, died. Bellatrix, left a broken heap by Neville, got trampled to death by the surging mob. Rabastan and Antonin fell to vamps. Fenrir was the sole 'survivor' that did not fall to a demon. One of the Slayers spotted him, bleeding profusely from his extensive wounds, and plunged a silver dagger into his heart. Crabbe fell to the fangs of a large acromantula. Umbridge got trampled to death by a large demon. Lucius, cradling a broken arm and ribs, did the bright thing and headed for the nearest group of Slayers, wand in plain sight and pointed straight up as he cried out. "I surrender!" Goyle mirrored his actions. They were surrounded by weapons and deprived of their wands in seconds, but they were protected from the demons. It was a better fate than the rest had suffered.

Slowly, the demons went down, in ones and twos and small groups, until finally, in the darkest hours before dawn, it was over. Voldemort was dead and his army vanquished. Slowly, the Hogwarts defenders began to sort through the mess for their own. Harry and Xander, both knocked unconscious by the blast from Voldemort's body, were among the first to be hauled into the castle, followed soon thereafter by quite a number of others. Within half an hour, everyone still alive was in the infirmary, and the dead among the defenders had been brought into the castle for burial later.

The sky had just barely begun to turn pink, long after everyone had gone into the castle, when there was movement on the body-strewn battlefield. A large, mangy rat was scurrying through the mess. High overhead, Hedwig, hunting for a bite to eat, spotted the movement and swooped down. The last thing Peter Pettigrew knew was the feel of sharp talons hitting him solidly, breaking his neck and back. Hedwig was well-pleased with her juicy meal.

Remus, Sirius, Harry and company would never discover Peter's fate. The closest they got was when Harry noticed rat bones in Hedwig's pellet later. They eventually decided that he had either fled the country or had been killed by one of the numerous demons on the battlefield.


	29. The End? Or Only the Beginning?

The End or Just the Beginning

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)(_)

September 19, Hogwarts, Evening

Xander woke ... feeling completely fine. This was rather a confusing state of affairs, given that he had been kicking demon ass for the better part of the night, only to get knocked on his ass by explod-a-Voldie. That memory made Xander grin a bit. It had been quite satisfying, killing that ugly son of a bitch. By all rights, he should be in a world and a half of pain, but he wasn't. For once, he could definitely appreciate the benefits of magic. Insta-cured owies were of the good. He started to push himself to a sitting position only for Madam Pomphrey to descend on him.

"You lie right back down!" She scolded. "I need to check you over!"

Xander tried to glare at her, but Pomphrey was not one to be easily intimidated, and ignored him until she'd run her wand up and down him a few times. When whatever she was getting from the scan met her standards, she huffed. "You're fine. But you're to take it easy for the next couple of days!" She told him, then stomped off to go deal with her next patient.

Xander sat up again and focused on the rest of the infirmary, or tried to. His bed was surrounded by white curtains. He got to his feet and pushed them aside to take a look. Every bed seemed to be in use, curtained off from the others to provide the inhabitants some privacy. He grimaced. "Damn. I hate this part of the job." He muttered.

Spike, having heard him moving and talking, poked his head through the curtains next to where Xander had been. "Oi, Xan. Sprat's in here. He's all right. Sleepin' at the mo'."

Xander immediately walked over and poked his head through the curtains to check on Harry. He looked a little pale and a little dirty, but otherwise fine. Xander let out a relieved breath, and slipped through to join Spike.

"So how'd we do?" He asked.

Spike grimaced. "Lost two Slayers and a dozen kids." He admitted.

Xander cursed, then sighed. "I suppose it could have been worse, but dammit!"

"Yeah, yeah. The wolf's pretty tore up. He'n that Fenrir bloke went at it hammers and tongs, evidently. Black's not too much better, but they're both gonna live. The red-headed brats are all mostly fine. Gonna have a few interesting new scars, but that's about the size of it. Most everyone else is in similar shape ... no missing bits or slow deaths or whatnot. Only exception's that Snape bloke and Flitwick. Don't think either of them got so much as a scratch." He sounded faintly admiring of that feat. "Got a couple prisoners ... literally. Only two of 'em had the wits to surrender rather than run. All the rest ended up dead by demon."

"Ouch. And also, convenient." Xander said. "Do you know which two?"

"Blondie and one of his minions." Spike supplied.

Damn. Malfoy lived. Well, they'd deal with him and his 'minion' later. Xander left Harry's bedside to start checking the various beds. He took care to speak to everyone who was awake, especially the Slytherins, Zabini, Higgs, Bulstrode, Greengrass, Nott, and Pucey. He quickly discovered that Spike was right. There would be a number of interesting scars, and a hell of a lot of interesting stories to be told, but remarkably there were no limbs or other body parts missing, and no one had been hit with a spell that killed over the long term. Spike hadn't been kidding about Snape and Flitwick either. They were both mussed, the edges of their cloaks were torn, and they definitely looked like they'd had an exceedingly long night, but they appeared to be wholly uninjured, and aside from Spike, Faith and now himself, they were the only ones apparently on their feet already.

"Who did we lose?" He wanted to know as he approached the two men.

Flitwick, expression sad, named them all off. Every House had lost at least one, among them Marietta Edgecombe, Cormac McLaggen, Ernie Macmillan, and Goyle junior. That young man's appearance among the Slytherin defenders had been a bit of a surprise to Xander, given his ... friendship? Guarding? Whatever ... of Malfoy junior. Xander nodded once Flitwick had finished and moved off, heading for Faith.

"One got swarmed by those damn spiders." She told him after one look at his face. "Get enough bites and not even Slayer healing can deal with it. The other took a horn to the gut. Bled out before anyone could get her to safety."

Xander grimaced. "Yeah, that would do it." He agreed. "Who were they?"

The names she gave were not, thankfully, Sunnydale survivors. There were few enough of them as it was, dammit. Unfortunately, both were girls Xander had known, being among his first African recruits. He swore viciously. The African Slayers, more so than the rest, were his girls, their importance to him only slightly less than that of the Scoobies. The two girls' deaths were deeply felt ones. Fortunately, he got a diversion in the form of Spike sticking his head out into the main part of the infirmary again. "Oi! Brat's awake!"

That had both him and Pomphrey converging on Spike, though Pomphrey beat Xander there and promptly chased Spike out so that she could check Harry over, much to Xander's amusement. After a few moments she came back out and sniffed. "He'll be fine. A few day's rest and relaxation is all he needs." She told them.

Xander headed into the curtained-off area and mock-glared at Harry, arms crossed over his chest. "You, young man." He said. "Are in so much trouble I don't even know where to start."

Harry looked abashed. "I had to di it." He said. "He never would have got involved unless I gave him a shot at me. It was me he wanted. I figured somebody's shoot him as soon as they got the chance."

"Good thing for you I figured out what you were up to." Xander said. "And your quip-fu is rather weak, young padawan. We shall have to work on that." That got a giggle out of Harry. "Seriously Harry, no Moldyshorts, no Voldiesnot, no muddyshirt? You couldn't piss him off with the hundred and fifty billion ways to mock his made up name, you had to go with calling him Tom repeatedly? That's weak, kiddo. Real weak. You've got a ways to go before you can claim to have learned the ways of Quip-Fu." With that mock scold, he left Harry, who was snickering quietly, to go check up on the others again.

Eventually, Xander made his way out of the infirmary to check on everyone who hadn't gotten laid up in there. Many of the Slayers were outside working on hauling what bodies hadn't disintegrated into nothing during the day into piles, dividing them according to animal, demon, and human, so they could be dealt with as required.

September 20, Hogwarts

It wasn't until the next morning, after a much-needed night's sleep, that Xander even remembered there was someone in the castle who really needed to be told about the battle and the outcome. There needed to be some gloating, and he was entirely too happy to be the one to do it. With that in mind, he headed for Dumbledore's quarters.

"Ahhh, you've come for my assistance?" Dumbledore asked the moment the door was opened.

Xander blinked at him, reluctantly admiring of the man's delusions or cojones, he wasn't quite sure which it was. "Nope. Not a bit of. Just came up here to tell you it's all over. All the horcruxes are destroyed ... yes, including the one in Harry. I can provide you with a pensieve memory of that if you want. And as you may or may not have noticed, Voldemort tried to storm the place last night. There were two survivors on his side. And remarkably few losses on our side." Xander informed him.

"How did Harry defeat Voldemort then?"

"He didn't." Xander said, trying not to grin.

"Then you will need me to help you. He will eventually return, with another army to do his bidding."

"I didn't say Voldemort didn't get beaten and killed, Dumbles." Xander said with a shake of his head. "I said Harry wasn't the one to do it. I was. Took an axe to him, literally. One chop later, his head came off and both head and body blew up. It was rather impressive."

"He may not ... "

"He's gone. Willow checked." It had been one of the first things Willow had done when the furor died down, to make absolutely sure Voldemort was done for. "He's gone. Totally and completely. By now, the news has reached the rest of the wizarding world. There ought to be some pretty awesome parties going on. Too bad you're going to miss all of it. You're going to be transferred to another jail at some point in the next few days, once people calm down. No one wants you here. Once you're wherever we finally put you, that's going to be it. You get to spend the rest of your life alone and forgotten about. Have fun with it." Xander closed the door and walked out.

Just after dinner, everyone was mobile again, if, in a few cases, only barely, and Hogwarts finally joined the growing wave of parties and jubilation spreading throughout the British wizarding world. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of tears, a ton of drinking, fireworks, and pretty much the entire population of mail owls in Britain were flying back and forth as people traded news and gossip.

Things wound down at Hogwarts a lot faster than they did anywhere else, thanks to exhaustion and injury. Still, as everyone was heading for bed, Xander found himself confronted with one Draco Malfoy.

"What's going to happen to my father?" Draco wanted to know.

"That's not been decided yet." Xander said. "He's got a lot to answer for, though, Draco. I'm not going to lie to you."

Draco sighed and nodded.

"Why didn't you fight?" Xander wanted to know.

"Because my father was out there, and I refuse to ... I can't ... he's my father." Draco said. "I just ... couldn't."

"Didn't really help that you don't think Voldemort was exactly wrong, does it?" Xander guessed. "Just really damn stupid in how he decided to make his opinion known."

Draco blinked at Xander for a long moment. "How ... "

"I pay attention to people." Xander said. "How they talk, how they act. Whatever Snape said to you guys made you think ... probably because you don't have any intention of being someone's lackey ... but it wasn't enough to convince you that non-purebloods are worth the air they breathe." He gave Draco a toothy grin. "You might want to actually get to know the people you're badmouthing before you condemn them entirely. They might just surprise you."

Draco sneered a bit, then turned and walked away.

"Do you think he's salvageable?" Xander asked thin air.

"It will take time. His father was quite ... vociferous ... in his views." Snape said, stalking out of the shadows. "His world has been thrown into chaos, but he has the potential to be a true Slytherin. If he can learn to adapt, he'll do well."

"Do I want to know what you told them to get them to open their eyes?" Xander asked.

"Merely the truth, brutal and unappealing as it may have been." Snape said. "I have found over the years that it is the best weapon, though it was all too seldom that I was able to wield it, at least in the way I wanted to." He glanced over at Xander. "You told Dumbledore?"

"Yeah. He didn't look so happy about it. Thought it might not be over. I offered him pensieve memories if he wanted proof though, and that shut him up. Mostly."

"What do you intend to do with him long term?"

"He's going to have to answer for his crimes. Right now, he's laboring under the belief that he's to be shut up forever, forgotten and alone. I figured that was suitable enough punishment until we could do something official once the hooplah died down." Xander said. "Though if I have any say, that will be his punishment, rather fitting for him, I think."

"The next months are going to be rather interesting." Snape observed.

"No shit." Xander told him. "Picking up the pieces is never easy."


End file.
